2010/03/30

Clerical Quackery 9 – Greek Influences on Judaism as illustrated in Ecclesiastes & Daniel


This is the 29th in a series of posts dealing with the history of what I call “the God Lie” and the 9th in a subseries of posts emphasizing Clerical Quackery. In the prior four posts, I tried to show some of the ideas developed in ancient Greece. In this post, my goal is to at least outline how some of those Greek ideas impacted and further transformed Judaism, as illustrated in two Old Testament books: Ecclesiastes and The Book of Daniel.

Such transformations were beyond those aspects of Zoroastrianism incorporated into Judaism during the approximately two centuries that the Persians ruled the Jews, from 540–332 BCE. The Greek-induced transformations occurred after the army of Alexander II of Macedonia (356–325 BCE) conquered the Persian Empire and the Greeks began their approximately two-centuries rule over the Jews. In future posts, I’ll try to show how further transformations of Judaism led to Christianity and Islam.

The resulting, Greek-induced transformations of Judaism led to what can be called Judaism 4.0 (or more accurately, Zoroastrianism 4.0), according to the following scheme:
• “In the beginning” Judaism 1.0 was similar to other tribal religions in the Middle East, with a warrior god Yahweh along with his consort (the mother goddess, “queen of heaven”) Asherah. Yahweh allegedly protected Abraham’s little tribe, whose members certainly didn’t consider Yahweh to be the only god that existed; i.e., Judaism 1.0 wasn’t monotheism but monolatry.

• During the 7th Century BCE, the high priest Hilkiah proclaimed Judaism 2.0, following his alleged discovery of the “the book of the law.” Under Hilkiah’s tutelage, Josiah (who became king of Judah in about 640 BCE, when he was eight years old) banned the goddess Asherah, specified Abraham’s tribal god as the national god, and claimed that an alleged “prophet” of Yahweh, Moses, dictated “God’s Laws” (which, unsurprisingly, claimed that the clerics were in charge of Jewish culture).

• After the Persian emperor Cyrus the Great conquered the new Babylonian Empire, the Jews were permitted to return from “captivity” in Babylon to their homeland (now a part of the Persian Empire), and sometime during ~450–350 BCE, Ezra and co-conspirators (Ezra & C-C) created and documented Judaism 3.0 as the first part of what most Christians call the Old Testament (OT). In the process, Yahweh was transformed into the sole god, a universal god of righteousness and justice, modeled after the similar Persian (Zoroastrian) god Ahura Mazda. Thereby, Judaism 3.0 could also be labeled as Zoroastrianism 3.0 (which went through its own evolutionary phases after Zoroastrianism 1.0 was concocted by Zarathustra and then subsequent Zoroastrian priests introduced their modifications to Zarathustra’s scheme).

• And after the army of the Greeks (or, in their own language, “the Hellenes”) defeated the Persians, then during the subsequent two centuries of cultural “Hellenization”, Judaism 4.0 emerged, which incorporated still more of Zoroastrianism – but this assimilation of additional Zoroastrian ideas into Judaism wasn’t directly via the Persians, but indirectly via the Greeks, especially by adopting the Zoroastrian-inspired ideas of the philosopher and would-be playwright Plato.
In later posts, as I already mentioned, I plan to at least skim the next phases in the evolution of Zoroastrianism: a few centuries after Judaism 4.0 (or Zoroastrianism 4.0) was adopted, Judaism 5.0 (Zoroastrianism 5.0) emerged as Christianity, and about six centuries still later, Judaism 6.0 (or Zoroastrianism 6.0) emerged as Islam.

Actually, though, and as might be expected, such transformations weren’t so “cut and dried” as the above scheme suggests. For example, in reality a number of “updates” to Judaism 4.0 were introduced (Judaism 4.1, 4.2, 4.3…) by different Jewish sects (the Sadducees, the Pharisees, the Essenes…) adding varying amounts of additional aspects of Zoroastrianism (angels, Satan, predestination, judgment after death, a coming messiah, an end-of-time apocalypse, paradise for the believers, etc.). Similarly, the number of “updates” to Christianity (Zoroastrianism 5.0) and Islam (Zoroastrianism 6.0) that have been and continue to be promoted boggles the mind – especially when they’re all make believe, without a shred of data to support them, and all are promoted by clerical quacks primarily for their own profit.

But setting all that aside for now (even though humanity desperately needs a new “operating system”, namely, Scientific Humanism 1.0), my plan for this post is to list and briefly illustrate some of the ancient Greek ideas that had varying degrees of influence on ancient Jewish culture. I’ll start with a group of Greek ideas (all labeled with the letter O for “Other Influences”) that seem to have had relatively little direct influence and then turn to a group of ideas (all labeled with the letter P for “Philosophy and Psychology”) that were incorporated directly into the “holy books” of Judaism.

O. Other Greek Influences on Jewish Culture
Although the goal of this post is to illustrate some of the ideas of the ancient Greeks that were incorporated into Judaism, I should at least mention some of the many developments of the ancient Greeks that, to varying degrees, also influenced Jewish culture (if not Judaism). Immediately below I’ll try to explain what I mean.

O.1 Greek Science
As I tried to illustrate in the previous four posts, the ancient Greeks developed many ideas. Judaism 4.0 incorporated only some of them. For example, as far as I recall, there’s not a single comment in the OT dealing with the concept proposed by Anaxagoras (c.500–428 BCE) that the Sun was a “red-hot stone… larger than the Peloponnesus” or with the ideas developed by Democritus (c.460–c.370 BCE) that “nothing exists except atoms and empty space…” In fact (at least as documented in the Bible), Jewish science, mathematics, medicine, and engineering even into the Christian era were more than six centuries (!) behind Greek developments in those fields, and yet, surely some of the developments were adopted by some of the intelligent Jewish people. Stated differently, one shouldn't expect any "holy book" to accurately describe what actually happened, since all "holy books"were written not by historians but by clerical partisans.

O.2 Greek Law & Associated Politics
As described by Will Durant on p. 297 of his 1939 book The Life of Greece, Greek law went through three phases:
The earliest Greeks appear to have conceived of law as sacred custom, divinely sanctioned and revealed; themis meant to them both these customs and a goddess who (like India’s Rita or China’s Tao or Tien [or Zarathustra’s Asha or Egypt’s Ma’at]) embodied the moral order and harmony of the world. Law was a part of theology, and the oldest Greek laws of property were mingled with liturgical regulations in the ancient temple codes. Perhaps as old as such religious law were the rules [were] established by the decrees of tribal chieftains or kings, which began as force and ended, in time, as sanctities.

The second phase of Greek legal history was the collection and co-ordination of these holy customs by lawgivers (thesmothetai) like Zaleucus, Charondas, Draco, Solon; when such men put their new codes into writing, the thesmoi, or sacred usages, became nomoi, or man-made laws. In these codes law freed itself from religion, and became increasingly secular; the intention of the agent entered more fully into judgment of the act; family liability was replaced by individual responsibility [italics added], and private revenge gave way to statutory punishment by the state.

The third step in Greek legal development was the accumulative growth of a body of law. When a Periclean Greek speaks of the law of Athens he means the codes of Draco and Solon, and the measures that have been passed – and not repealed – by the Assembly or the Council. If a new law contravenes an old one, the repeal of the latter is prerequisite; but scrutiny is seldom complete, and two statutes are often found in ludicrous contradiction. In periods of exceptional legal confusion a committee of nomothetai, or law determiners, is chosen by lot from the popular courts to decide which laws shall be retained; in such cases advocates are appointed to defend the old laws against those who propose to repeal them. Under the supervision of these nomothetai the laws of Athens, phrased in simple and intelligible language, are cut upon stone slabs in the King’s Porch; and thereafter no magistrate is allowed to decide a case by an unwritten law.
In contrast, Judaism 4.0 remained stuck in the first phase of the development of law and associated politics (just as most of Islam is still stuck today, approximately 2500 years behind the Greeks), with the people indoctrinated with the balderdash that their laws were dictated by some giant Jabberwock in the sky (who just happened to have prescribed a set of laws permitting clerical parasites to leech off the people).

O.3 Greek Arts, Crafts, and Economics
I’m not going to try to summarize Greek advances in the arts, crafts, and economics. Instead, I’ll try to make just the single point that, although the Jewish clerics resisted such developments, apparently many Jewish people relished and copied them, incorporating them into their economy. For example, as described by Andrew Benson in his book The Origins of Christianity and the Bible (partially available on the web):
The Greeks influenced the people of Palestine even before the Hellenistic era. Excavations have shown that during the 5th and 4th centuries BCE Greek art was highly prized in Palestine. All important excavations of 5th century sites have yielded Greek pottery and other Greek objects. Wealthy Phoenicians buried their dead in marble sarcophagi that had been carved by Greek craftsmen.

The Greeks invented money: coins. Sometime before 450 BCE the Persians abandoned their means of exchange (by precious metals) and adopted the Attic [Athenian] standard of making coins. By the middle of the fourth century the Persian satraps and local rulers of Cilicia, Syria, and Palestine produced coins that imitated the Greek coins. Judea received permission to strike its own silver coins, which were imitations of Attic coins. The biblical archaeologist Professor William Albright wrote that Alexander’s conquest of Palestine in 331 [332?] BCE only intensified and organized the Hellenistic movement that was already well under way. This Hellenistic movement transformed Judaism and eventually brought about Christianity.
O.4 Other Aspects of Greek Culture
As for other Greek cultural influences on the Jews during their two-and-more centuries of Hellenization, again there’s “no way” that I can do the subject justice – nor do I want to even try! Historians have spent their professional lives focusing on (and arguing about!) the subject. Interested readers might want to glance at the article by Lester L. Grabble entitled “The Jews and Hellenization: Hengel and His Critics”, which references many historical books and articles, including several by Martin Hengel. Grabble’s summary point is the following:
Although there are many points to be debated in current study, Hengel’s dictum is becoming more and more accepted: one can no longer talk of Judaism vs. Hellenism nor of Palestinian vs. Hellenistic Judaism. To do so is to create an artificial binary opposition and to reduce an enormously complex picture to stark, unshaded black and white. It is also to treat a lengthy process as if it were a single… event – as if conception, pregnancy, birth, childhood, and adulthood could be simultaneous.
The only two points that I would make (because not only did I find them interesting but they’re relevant to material in this post) are the following.

O.4.1 Greek Literature
One of the stunning achievements of the ancient Greeks was, of course, their literature, from Homer (or whoever wrote The Iliad and The Odyssey) to poets and playwrights such as Aeschylus (535–456 BCE), Pindar (c.518–c.438 BCE), Sophocles (c.496–406 BCE), and Euripides (c.485–406 BCE). I know of no ancient Jewish literature of comparable quality, perhaps because of my limited education, but I suspect because the Jewish clerics controlled both their culture and their historical records. The nearest to “great literature” that the Jewish clerics did preserve (and then, only after substantial arguments among themselves) is what many (including me) consider to be the best book in the OT, namely, Ecclesiastes.

Later in this post, I’ll include several quotations from Ecclesiastes; here, therefore, I want to insert a few general comments about it. The word Ecclesiastes is derived from the Greek word ekklēsiastēs meaning “member of an assembly” or “speaker”. When “the speaker” (identified in the text with either the name or title Qoheleth) lived or who he (or she?) was is unknown. The opening line of Ecclesiastes claims that it was written by King Solomon, but I doubt if there’s a single biblical scholar who accepts that claim. As the Wikipedia article on Ecclesiastes states:
Most critical scholars suggest that Ecclesiastes was written around 250 BCE [about 700 years after Solomon lived!]… The latest possible date for it is set by the fact that Ben Sirach (written ca. 180 BCE) repeatedly quotes or paraphrases it…
There are suggestions that Ecclesiastes wasn’t accepted into the “holy book” of the Jews (as “canon”) until the time period 70–90 CE. I expect that it wasn’t accepted until some cleric (or group of clerics) added the following two conclusions (Ecc. 12, 9–14) as a “postscript” or “postface”:
Not only was the Teacher wise, but he also taught knowledge to the people; he carefully evaluated and arranged many proverbs. The Teacher sought to find delightful words, and to write accurately truthful sayings. The words of the sages are like prods, and the collected sayings are like firmly fixed nails; they are given by one shepherd.

Be warned, my son, of anything in addition to them. There is no end to the making of many books, and much study is exhausting to the body. Having heard everything, I have reached this conclusion: Fear God and keep his commandments, because this is the whole duty of man. For God will evaluate every deed, including every secret thing, whether good or evil.
The above, however, is NOT what Ecclesiastes is about. To my mind, further, there’s no doubt that the above wasn’t written by “the Teacher” (Qoheleth), not only because its content conflicts with much of the text but also because it obviously was written to inform the reader (or the son of the writer of the postface) about “the Teacher”. I suspect, therefore, that some cleric (or group of clerics) added the above postface to Ecclesiastes and that the majority of the Jewish clerics accepted Ecclesiastes into their “holy book” only after such a “disclaimer” was added to what Qoheleth had written. As given in the assessment in the already-referenced Wikipedia article:
Ecclesiastes is accepted as canonical by both Judaism and Christianity. However, in the first century AD, literal interpretation of the work led to debate over whether it was to be included in the Jewish canon. The House of Hillel and the House of Shammai debated its inclusion, with the Hillel school arguing for it. Its inclusion was decided when Eleazar ben Azariah was made head of the assembly… Arguments against its inclusion were alleged opposition to statements in Psalms, internal incoherency, and heresy (Epicureanism). It was accepted because of its attribution to Solomon, and to the orthodox statement at 12:12-14 [i.e., the above-quoted “postface”].
And I’m stimulated to add that it’s “interesting” to learn about the method that clerics thereby use to decide what is and what isn’t their god’s words (or at least, his "inspiration")! As I intend to illustrate in later posts, similar clerical silliness (and skullduggery) prevailed to decide what was to be included as “holy scripture” in the New Testament (NT) and the Koran.

But anyway, returning to the literary quality of Ecclesiastes, for now I’ll ask the reader to just consider how Qoheleth expanded so beautifully on Homer’s line (The Odyssey, Bk. XI, Line 379):
There is a time for many words, and there is a time for sleep.
In Ecclesiastes, Qoheleth wrote the familiar (Ecc. 3, 1–8):
For everything its season, and for every activity under heaven its time: a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot; a time to kill and a time to heal; a time to pull down and a time to build up; a time to weep and a time to laugh… a time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace.
O.4.2 Greek Sports
And the second point that I found interesting about influences of Greek culture on the ancient Jews was some of the resentment to Greek influences expressed by Jewish clerics, e.g., the resentment described in the apocryphal (hidden) book 2 Maccabees. Thus, as described in the book by Andrew Benson (already referenced):
A staunch Hellenist Jew named Jason became the high priest [of Judaism] from 175 to 172 BCE. His name originally was Jesus, but because of his love for the Greek culture he changed it to Jason. He transformed Jerusalem into a Greek city, with Greek schools and gymnasiums where traditionally young athletes exercised nude (a Greek athletic practice). Even some of the young priests at Jerusalem took up the Greek language, athletic sports, and manner of dress: “…he [Jason] founded a gymnasium right under the citadel, and he induced the noblest of the young men to wear the Greek hat. There was… an extreme of Hellenization and increase in the adoption of foreign ways…” (2 Maccabees 4:12-13 RSV) During the heyday of Greek influence the priests of the Jerusalem temple would sometimes leave the sacrifices half-burned on the altar to rush off to a stadium to compete in the Greek games: “…the priests were no longer intent upon their service at the altar. Despising the sanctuary and neglecting the sacrifices, they hastened to take part in the unlawful proceedings in the wrestling arena after the call to the discus, disdaining the honors prized by their fathers and putting the highest value upon Greek forms of prestige.” (2 Maccabees 4:14-15 RSV)
And thus, as has re-occurred so many times, probably many youngsters adapted to (and even relished) change, while old fogeys resisted. Similar occurs today, most dramatically in the Muslim world but also in the West, almost invariably with the clerics worrying that change will diminish their perks and their power and with the young thinking that they have little to lose but their chains.

P. Greek Philosophical and Psychological Influences on Judaism
Whether they liked it or not, the Jewish clerics (and therefore Judaism) were eventually profoundly influenced by Greek philosophy and psychology. Below I’ll try to illustrate some of the resulting influences, with the illustrations organized into various subcategories (identified in subsection titles); for each, I’ll try to at least suggest resulting variations in opinions, since as was quoted above:
To do [otherwise] is to create an artificial binary opposition and to reduce an enormously complex picture to stark, unshaded black and white. It is also to treat a lengthy process as if it were a single… event – as if conception, pregnancy, birth, childhood, and adulthood could be simultaneous.
P.1 Skepticism vs. Authoritarianism
It may be a safe generalization to claim that all social change starts with skepticism of the status quo. For example, skepticism of existing “authority” (commonly claimed by a culture’s clerics) initiated philosophical and scientific progress in ancient Greece. Similar occurred elsewhere, e.g., the progress made by Confucius, the Buddha, and Zarathustra. On the other hand, skepticism against the value of change can be a bulwark to maintain the status quo! An example is the forceful statement by the Athenian orator and statesman Demosthenes (c.384–322 BCE), famous for his speeches urging resistance against expansionist plans of Alexander’s father, Philip II of Macedonia. Demosthenes urged:
There are all kinds of devices invented for the protection and preservation of countries: defensive barriers, forts, trenches and the like. All these are the work of human hands aided by money. But prudent minds have as a natural gift one safeguard which is the common possession of all… What is this safeguard? Skepticism. This you must preserve. This you must retain. If you can keep this, you need fear no harm.
A safer generalization may therefore be that skepticism abounds; therefore, one would be well advised to investigate what people are skeptical about and, following the scientific method, put all ideas to experimental tests.

In the previous four posts in this series I provided illustrations of the skepticism of some ancient Greeks; a few illustrations follow.
• Skepticism of Greek mythology as recorded by “the authorities” (Homer and Hesiod) was rampant, including the saying of the Seven Sages that “Hesiod might as well have kept his breath to cool his pottage” and the fragment from Heraclitus (c.535–c.475 BCE): “[Homer] should be turned out of the lists and whipped.

• Skepticism of the gods include the statement by Xenophanes (c.570–c.480 BCE) that “If cattle and horses, or lions, had hands, or were able to draw with their feet and produce the words which men do, then horses would draw the forms of gods like horses, and cattle like cattle, and they would make the gods’ bodies the same shape as their own” as well as the honest, agnostic statement by Protagoras (c.485–c.415 BCE): “Concerning the gods, I have no means of knowing whether they exist or not or of what sort they may be, because of the obscurity of the subject, and the brevity of human life.

• Skepticism about the ideas of physicists (from the Greek word phusis meaning ‘nature’) started with skepticism of the idea of Thales (c.624–c.545 BCE) that “Water is the cause of all things” and continued for essentially every theory proposed during the subsequent three-and-more centuries.

• Skepticism even about humans’ ability to know anything with certainty was admirably illustrated by the statement by Xenophanes (c.570–c.480 BCE) that’s as valid today as it was in his day: “But as for certain truth, no man has known it, nor will he know it – neither of the gods nor yet of all the things of which I speak. And even if by chance he were to utter the final truth, he would himself not know it, for all is but a woven web of guesses.
Unfortunately, however, ancient Greece also had its authoritarian mystics who were skeptical of the skeptics’ ideas, who didn’t test their own ideas against data, who didn’t appreciate Xenophanes’ wisdom, and instead foolishly claiming that their knowledge was “certain”. Examples included Pythagoras, Plato, and the Stoics. And unfortunately for the world, Jewish clerics (and subsequent Christian and Muslim clerics) also failed to appreciate Xenophanes’ wisdom; as a result, their mystical mumbo-jumbo still pollutes the world.

Little skepticism is recorded in “official Judaism” (e.g., in the OT). That is, similar to Greek clerics and mystic philosophers, Jewish clerics were certain that they knew “the Truth” – just as do today’s Christian and Muslim clerics, without knowing even what ‘truth’ means! Nonetheless, there are hints even in the OT that some skepticism did creep into Judaism. An example is the following from Ecclesiastes 7, 14–16:
In times of prosperity be joyful, but in times of adversity consider this: God has made one as well as the other, so that no one can discover what the future holds. During the days of my fleeting life I have seen both of these things: sometimes a righteous person dies prematurely in spite of his righteousness, and sometimes a wicked person lives long in spite of his evil deeds. So, do not be excessively righteous or excessively wise; otherwise, you might be disappointed.
With his statement “no one can discover what the future holds”, the author (Qoheleth) thereby discounted all “prophecy” (just as Homer had Hector and Telemachus discount prophecies, as I illustrated in an earlier post). Further, with his statement “sometimes a righteous person dies prematurely in spite of his righteousness, and sometimes a wicked person lives long in spite of his evil deeds” (which is consistent with Jobs’ experiences), Qoheleth promoted skepticism of the Jewish clerics’ claim of God’s righteousness and justice.

P.2 Cynicism vs. Naiveté
Skepticism can lead to cynicism. For example, the skepticism of the Greek philosopher Pyrrho (c. 365–c.270 BCE), who is usually credited as being the first Skeptic philosopher (and who, by the way, traveled with Alexander all the way to India), led him to the cynical conclusion: “against every statement its contradiction may be advanced with equal justification.” Meanwhile, though, I’m skeptical that Pyrrho should be credited as being the first Skeptic philosopher (all philosophers are skeptics, and Xenophanes seems to have been more skeptical than Pyrrho) and I admit to being sufficiently cynical of Pyrrho’s quoted statement to say that, if it were so, if “against every statement its contradiction may be advanced with equal justification”, then all science would be destroyed and, for example, this computer wouldn’t work!

Stated differently, skepticism is healthy and cynicism is a common consequence of skepticism, but to make progress, new hypotheses must be proposed and their predictions tested. Otherwise, similar to recent experiences with the global warming problem, skepticism and cynicism can lead to just a bunch of mindless denials. For example, currently in the U.S., conservative Republicans seem intent on denying every new idea, from the possibility of global warming to improvements to health care, and from the need to regulate the financial industry to the American citizenship of Barack Obama; yet, most of them naively cling to the authority of the Bible’s fairy tales!

But returning to the cynicism of ancient Greek philosophers, another illustration appears in one of the stories about Heraclitus (c.535–c.475 BCE):
Heraclitus was once asked to write a constitution for Ephesus, but refused. He used to play at knucklebones with children by the temple of Artemis. When adults came to gape, he replied: “Why should you be astonished, you rascals? Isn’t it better to do this than to take part in your civil life?”
Consistently, one of the fragments from Heraclitus’ writings is:
Ephesians might as well hang themselves, every man of them, and leave their city to be governed by youngsters…
The most famous cynic among the ancient Greek philosophers was, of course, Diogenes the Cynic (c.412–323 BCE), who “was the only man to mock Alexander the Great [to his face] and live.” A familiar story about Diogenes is that he went about Athens with a lantern, claiming he was looking for at least one honest man. In an earlier post, I provided an example of his debunking Plato’s idea of Forms; a more famous example of the trouble he caused Plato was that, after Plato defined ‘man’ to be a “featherless biped”, Diogenes plucked a chicken, brought it to Plato’s Academy, and said: “This is Plato’s man!”

Describing anyone as a cynic, however, is not very illuminating: the object of the person’s cynicism should be specified. In the case of Diogenes the Cynic (also called Diogenes of Sinope), “his life was a relentless campaign to debunk the social values and institutions of what he saw as corrupt society.” His disdain for the Eleusinian Mysteries is clear in his following statement, as reported by Diogenes Laërtius:
“It will,” he replied, “be an absurd thing if Aegesilaus and Epaminondas [or, we might say, Abu’l-Ala-Al-Ma’arri, Omar Khayyam, David Hume, and Spinoza] are to live in the mud, and some miserable wretches, who have been initiated, are to be in the islands of the blest.”
Diogenes Laërtius also reports:
…that when in the course of his life he [Diogenes the Cynic] beheld pilots, and physicians, and philosophers, he thought man the wisest of all animals; but when again he beheld interpreters of dreams, and soothsayers, and those who listened to them, and men puffed up with glory or riches, then he thought that there was not a more foolish animal than man.
He was also called “Diogenes the Dog”, apparently for multiple reasons. One reason is that the “the terms ‘cynic’ and ‘cynical’ are derived from the Greek word kynikos, the adjective form of kynon, meaning ‘dog’.” Diogenes, however, was not cynical about virtue and about friendship, famously saying: “Other dogs bite their enemies; I bite my friends to save them.

Meanwhile, if any of the ancient Jews were cynical, little of their cynicism was recorded in the OT, as might have been expected – at least by those of us who are cynical of the intellectual honesty of any cleric! Nonetheless, some cynicism appears in Ecclesiastes. Further, it seems likely that the author knew of Diogenes the Cynic, since at Ecclesiastes 7, 28, Qoheleth wrote:
What I have continually sought, I have not found; I have found only one upright man among a thousand, but I have not found one upright woman among all of them.
The above variation on the familiar story about Diogenes makes me wonder if the misogyny of many ancient Semitic cultures (and even “modern” Muslim cultures) stimulated Qoheleth to include his insulting comment about women. On the other hand, perhaps he never knew his mother!

More famous skepticism and cynicism in Ecclesiastes appears in its opening lines, which have been translated in many ways:
• Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!
• Utterly senseless, everything is senseless!
• Utterly absurd, everything is absurd!
• Meaningless of meaninglessness! All is meaningless!
• Futility of futilities, all is futile!
• Absolutely pointless! Everything is pointless!
That’s about as cynical as one can get – about everything! But Qoheleth’s philosophy wasn’t so coherent as was Diogenes’; for example, Qoheleth obviously decided that writing Ecclesiastes wasn’t “pointless”!

P.3 Pessimism vs. Optimism
From my own experiences and with the help of my dictionary’s definitions, I suggest that skepticism (from Greek skepsis meaning ‘doubt’) and cynicism (from Greek Kunosarges, the name of the gymnasium where the first cynic, Antisthenes, taught, but popularly taken to mean ‘doglike, churlish’) commonly lead to pessimism (the belief that this world is as bad as it could be or that evil will ultimately prevail over good). A few examples of pessimistic statements by ancient Greeks are the following (in the main, taken from Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations).
Until he is dead, do not yet call a man happy, but only lucky. (Solon, c.630–c.555 BCE)

In Greece wise men speak and fools decide. [Anacharsis (fl. c. 600 BCE)]

[Anacharsis] laughed at him [Solon] for imagining the dishonesty and covetousness of his countrymen could be restrained by written laws, which were like spiders’ webs and could catch, it is true, the weak and poor, but easily be broken by the mighty and rich. [From Plutarch (c.46–c.120 CE), Parallel Lives, Life of Solon.]

The best of all things for earthly men is not to be born and not to see the beams of the bright sun; but if born, then as quickly as possible to pass the gates of Hades and to lie deep buried. (Theognis, fl. c. 545 BCE).
Skepticism and cynicism needn’t lead to pessimism, however. For example, in response to someone who said that it was a bad thing to live, Diogenes the Cynic responded: “Not to live, but to live badly.

In general, subsequent to the Babylonian exile, pessimism didn’t seem to permeate Jewish society – although, as I showed in an earlier post, there is pessimism in The Book of Job, whenever it might have been written. The reason why the Jews seem to have remained optimistic is presumably because Ezra & C-C’s “redaction” of the Jewish “holy book” infused the Jews with thoughts that their god was in control and, after his petulance was assuaged, he would look after them. Although (as I illustrated in earlier posts) that idea appears so frequently in the OT that it can drive the reader to distraction, yet once again in Ecclesiastes, more cynical, pessimistic, and even fatalistic ideas appear, e.g., at Ecc. 9, 11 (with italics added):
Again, I observed this on the earth: the race is not always won by the swiftest, the battle is not always won by the strongest; prosperity does not always belong to those who are the wisest, wealth does not always belong to those who are the most discerning, nor does success always come to those with the most knowledge – for time and chance may overcome them all.
As a general rule, I expect that, to suggest (as in Homer’s books) that “time and chance” is overall – in particular, over the authority of some god – is about as close as one can come to denying the god promoted by any group of clerics and still have them include your ideas in their “holy book”!

Such cynicism and pessimism (consistent with Qoheleth’s “all is pointless”) seems to be the common, dead-end conclusion of religions that don’t offer a fictitious paradise after death – and as the following quotations show, in Ecclesiastes Qoheleth makes his opinion abundantly clear that, when you’re dead, you’re just dead:
For the fate of humans and the fate of animals are the same: as one dies, so dies the other; both have the same breath. There is no advantage for humans over animals, for both are fleeting. Both go to the same place, both come from the dust, and to dust both return. Who really knows if the human spirit ascends upward [as Plato promoted], and the animal’s spirit descends into the earth [with which Pythagoras disagreed]? So I perceived there is nothing better than for people to enjoy their work [as Epicurus recommended], because that is their reward; for who can show them what the future holds? (Ecc. 3, 19–22)

But whoever is among the living has hope; a live dog [Diogenes?!] is better than a dead lion [Alexander?]. For the living know that they will die, but the dead do not know anything; they have no further reward – and even the memory of them disappears… Whatever you find to do with your hands, do it with all your might, because there is neither work nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom in the grave, the place where you will eventually go. (Ecc. 9, 4–10)

The light of day is sweet, and pleasant to the eye is the sight of the sun; if a man lives for many years, he should rejoice in all of them. But let him remember that the days of darkness will be many. Everything that is to come will be emptiness. (Ecc. 11, 8)
As suggested by the notes added to the above quotations, Qoheleth apparently adopted some of Epicurus’ ideas, but he missed the most important ones, namely, to forget about gods and any “afterlife”. Further, as Epicurus wrote in his Letter to Pythocles:
It is unwise to desire what is impossible: to proclaim a uniform theory about everything… Rather than committing to explanations based on unwarranted assumptions and dogma, we may only theorize as far as the phenomena allow. For our life has no need of unreasonable and groundless opinions; our one need is untroubled existence. So, if one is satisfied (as he should be) with that which is shown to be less than certain, it is no cause for concern that things can be explained in more than one way, consistent with the evidence. But if one accepts one explanation and rejects another that is equally consistent with the evidence, he is obviously rejecting science altogether and taking refuge in myth.
In particular, starting with the silly assumptions that gods exist, that humanity started in paradise (and has been degenerating ever since), and that death is the end of one’s existence, Qoheleth reached the inevitable conclusion that life is pointless. Of course, the sensible resolution to that philosophical predicament is to reject the data-less assumptions that gods exist and that humanity started in paradise and, instead, to adopt the data-rich, testable hypothesis that humanity has evolved (and will continue to evolve, so long as we help one another). But ignoring that realistic, atheistic, and optimistic resolution, Jewish clerics (intent on feathering their own nests) eventually adopted Zarathustra’s data-less (yet, optimistic) speculation that, after people die, they’re judged and, depending on their behavior during life, are rewarded or punished appropriately – of course with glorious rewards for those who obey the clerics and terrible punishments for those who disobey.

Thereby, Jewish clerics began incorporating into their fictitious scheme not only additional aspects of Zoroastrianism but also some elements of Greek (and Zarathustra’s) individualism. Below, I’ll try to illustrate my meaning, but I feel the need to provide some background information, which I’ll do with the following section and its subsections.

P.4 Individualism vs. Collectivism
The topic of individualism vs. collectivism is huge, both historically and psychologically, and it’s as important for us today as it was for the first human tribes, a hundred (or so) thousand years ago. Today in the U.S., arguments rage over ideas about collectivism promoted by liberal Democrats vs. individualism promoted by conservative Republicans, and today in the world (with the collectivism of communism of diminished concern), arguments rage over the collectivism of socialism vs. the individualism of free enterprise and over the collectivism of Islam vs. the individualism of the West.

In the West, an individual’s challenge is to decide how much to help others while still looking after oneself. In Islam, in contrast (and as was the case in fascist countries and as is still the case in communist countries), as Hitler said, “…we understand only the individual’s capacity to make sacrifices for the community…” or as Khrushchev said, “We must abolish the cult of the individual decisively, once and for all.” For example, A.K. Brohi (1915–87), Pakistan’s Law Minister in both the 1950s and 70s, chillingly maintained (to which I've added the italics):
Human duties and rights have been vigorously defined and their orderly enforcement is the duty of the whole of organized communities and the task is specifically entrusted to the law enforcement organs of the state. The individual if necessary has to be sacrificed in order that that the life of the organism be saved. Collectivity has a special sanctity attached to it in Islam… [In Islam] there are no ‘human rights’ or ‘freedoms’ admissible to man… in essence the believer owes obligation or duties to God, if only because he is called upon to obey the Divine Law, and such human rights as he is made to acknowledge seem to stem from his primary duty to obey God.
No doubt the resulting strife between individualism and collectivism will continue – so long as we seek to survive (even thrive) as individuals and yet, as members of a community, our survival depends on the prosperity of our society. In turn, the prosperity of any society commonly depends critically on the accomplishments of especially competent individuals, e.g., one Steve Jobs accomplishes more than a million of the rest of us – and one Einstein, more than a billion of us. The challenge is to appreciate that, as Heraclitus said approximately 2500 years ago:
The opposite is beneficial; from things that differ comes the fairest attunement; all things happen by strife and necessity. People do not know how what is at variance agrees with itself. It is an attunement of opposite tensions, like that of the bow and the lyre.
Now, tracing the history of the attempt to find “an attunement of opposite tensions” between individualism vs. collectivism, even in just ancient Persia or Greece, or just among the ancient Jews, is far too great a task for me to even try to undertake – even if I were a historian! Instead, in the following subsections, I’ll simply list a few topics (each of which is probably already the subject of multiple Ph.D. theses!), provide a few examples to try to illustrate what I mean, and then try to steer the whole toward showing how (and maybe why) some ancient Greeks and Jews adopted martyrdom, a crazy idea still practiced by far-too-many “modern” Muslims. For a very few martyrs (such as Socrates, Mattathias, and maybe Jesus – if he existed), perhaps their martyrdom was for their perceived good of the collective, but for the vast majority of Jews, Christians, and “modern” Muslims, their martyrdom was (and is) a deluded, egotistical, extreme form of individualism (seeking eternal bliss in some fictitious paradise).

P.4.1 Individualism vs. Tribalism
Every culture has its myths and stories, which to a large extent define its culture. In the past, most such myths and stories involved “the gods” and therefore defined each culture’s religion. Also, usually incorporated in such stories are anecdotes that stimulate each culture’s adoption of specific policies from among the continuum of policies between individualism and collectivism. Literally hundreds of examples could be given.

For example, as I reviewed in earlier posts in this series, the ancient Sumerians had their story about Adapa (a precursor to the story about Adam, of Adam and Eve fame, who declined the offer from the gods for eternal life), their story about Ubar-Tutu or Utnapishtim (a precursor to the story about Noah, who with the help of his god saved his family from the flood), and of course, their famous story about Gilgamesh or “Gilga the Hero”. Adapa was a loner, Utnapishtim was a family man, and readers who have treated themselves to the version of The Epic of Gilgamesh written by Sin-leqe-unnini will recall Gilga’s transformations: from a loner (“like a wild bull”), to his friendship and adventures with Enkidu, to his despair at the death of his friend, to his lonely but egotistical search for eternal life, and finally, to his discoveries of meaning in friendship, family, and producing something of lasting value for his community:
Choose to live and choose to love; choose to rise above and give back what you yourself were given. Be moderate as you flee for survival in a boat that has no place for riches… even if I were to fail… all future clans would say I did the job.
Relevant stories are also available, of course, from ancient Egypt, India, and Persia, but to move this post along, I’ll jump to Homer’s stories from ancient Greece.

In The Iliad and The Odyssey, Homer’s messages about individualism vs. collectivism are complicated and confusing. In contrast to the case for patriarchal groups (such as the ancient Persians and Jews and “modern” Muslims), Homer tells us little about the fathers of his heroes. Further, in some cases it’s difficult to know who Homer suggests are heroes: Agamemnon (the most powerful Greek king) is depicted sometimes as a bully and a bungler; Hector is depicted as a hero of his own collective (the enemy), e.g., with his “There is one omen, and one only – that a man should fight for his country”; Achilles (the most famous of the Greek fighters) is depicted as a whiny brat, whose vulnerable tendon seems really to be his individualism (refusing to fight – until his best buddy is killed – because of Agamemnon's personal insult and then horribly dragging behind his horse the dead body of Hector). In The Odyssey, similarly, one wonders if Homer is describing Ulysses as a hero for his individualism (and trickery) or as a despicable character. Maybe the only hero in the tale is Ulysses’ wife, Penelope, in part for her individualism (and trickery), but also for her commitment to her husband. Perhaps the only lesson to be gained from Homer is not about what he advocated on the continuum between individualism and collectivism, but that, on such matters, great authors only lead their readers – and let them decide for themselves.

And then there are the stories in the first part of the OT, which in general weren’t written by great authors. Again and again, the same stupefying messages are relayed: never mind fraternity (e.g., Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his brothers, etc.), women must obey their husbands or masters, since otherwise, women just cause trouble (e.g., Eve, Sarah, Hagar, Rebecca, Tamar, etc.), and always but always, fathers know best (e.g., Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob…) – provided that they obey God (aka the clerics) and thus don't behave as Adam did. In the ancient Jewish stories, then, there is short shrift for individualism (unless the individual is following the will of God, aka the clerics); instead, there’s unremitting emphasis on patriarchy, tribalism, and obeying the damn clerics (which continues in Islam to this day).

P.4.2 Personal vs. Collective Honor & Dishonor
In communal cultures, honor is defined not by the individual but by the group; as a consequence, individuals (e.g., in “modern” Muslim countries) usually aren’t concerned about guilt but about shame. An example from ancient Greece of such “collective responsibility” is in Hesiod’s Works and Days: “Often an entire city has suffered because of an evil man.” Similar, silly ideas of “communal guilt” are contained throughout the OT and, for that matter, also throughout the NT, e.g., the ridiculous claim that we're all guilty because Adam ate the apple! (I'm not; I have a perfect alibi; I wasn't even alive at the time!) Yet, in a particular example, recall that Abraham’s sense of justice was more advanced than God’s: Abraham managed to talk God out of destroying Sodom if first 50 and then finally at least 10 “godly people” resided therein.

For hierarchical societies, those in power define ‘honor’ (for others!) as those behaviors that protect the power structure. Thus, patriarchs demand that their wives be ‘honorable’ (especially, not to engage in adultery, because their husbands don’t want their resources consumed by some other man’s child). Similarly, tribal leaders and clerics define honorable behavior in war as courage, because it protects their privileged positions. As a result, claims such as the following were common in the tribal days of ancient Greece:
If to die honorably is the greatest part of virtue, for us fate’s done her best. Because we fought to crown Greece with freedom, we lie here enjoying timeless fame. (Simonides, c. 556–468 BCE, For the Athenian Dead at Plataia)

We did not flinch but gave our lives to save Greece when her fate hung on a razor’s edge. (Simonides, c. 556–468 BCE, Cenotaph at the Isthmos)

Fix your eyes on the greatness of Athens as you have it before you day by day, fall in love with her, and when you feel her great, remember that this greatness was won by men with courage, with knowledge of their duty, and with a sense of honor in action. (Thucydides, c.460–400 BCE)
As I’ve illustrated in earlier posts in this series, the OT is loaded with similar nonsense, but in ancient Greece, ideas of honor as defined by individuals began to emerge. In part, the sense of personally defined honor seems to have come from the Olympic games, the first of which apparently occurred in 776 BCE (about the time of the writings of Homer and Hesiod). It’s clear that citizens of the Greek cities took collective pride in the accomplishments of their athletes, just as citizens of cities and nations, today, foolishly take collectives pride in the accomplishments of their athletes! Thus, the home cities of winners of the Games typically “voted them free meals for the rest of their lives, or set up statues in their honor.” But simultaneously, winners at the Games almost certainly took pride in their individual accomplishments. Similarly, individual artists and tradesmen in ancient Greece were “honored” for their accomplishments, and thereby, new ideas about individualism and individual honor emerged.

In addition, Greek philosophy bred individualism. For example, essentially every new idea was identified with the individual who proposed it, and still today, we can be overwhelmed by the names of so many individuals (such as Thales, Xenophanes, Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Anaxagoras, Protagoras, etc.). In addition, there were individuals such as Socrates, whom some ancient Greeks considered to be so dishonorable that he was sentenced to death, and yet, “the Socratic method” is honored to this day – and should be taught to all children, to help them learn critical thinking skills! As well, there were such individuals as Diogenes the Cynic, whom some described as dishonorable (and beat him like a dog for his behavior), and yet, Alexander the Great reportedly said: “If I were not Alexander, then I should wish to be Diogenes.” Subsequently, the individualism practiced by Socrates and Diogenes became the foundation of Stoicism, which later infused both Judaism and Christianity with ideas of individual honor.

Below, I’ll provide some illustrations of the influence of Greek individualism on Judaism as illustrated in Ecclesiastes, but for now, consider the following quotations taken not from Ecclesiastes but from Ecclesiasticus (33, 19–22 and 37, 13), also called Sirach, which seems to have been authored by Ben Sirah in about 180–175 BCE:
Whatever you are doing, rely on yourself, for this, too, is a way of keeping the commandments… [T]rust you own judgment, for it is your most reliable counselor.
It’s easy to understand why Sirach isn’t included in the Jewish Tanakh and why most Protestant clerics refused to accept it as “canonical”: to advocate that individuals rely on themselves and trust their own judgment is to promote scientific humanism and, therefore, the end of clerical quackery!

P.4.3 Individual Rights vs. Collective Responsibilities
Under the topic “individual rights” I mean to include various “freedoms to” and “freedoms from”, including any individual’s rights to define and pursue virtue and happiness. By collective responsibilities, I mean to include multiple topics dealing with justice and laws. Clearly, then, the topics in this subsection constitute a huge area of study, but here, I’ll just gloss over the topics, again trying to focus on how Greek ideas seeped into Judaism.

It’s commonly accepted that humans have freedom to think as they want, but actually, the majority of humans don’t (and apparently can’t) exercise such freedom: their thoughts are unfortunately restricted by their childhood indoctrination in religious balderdash. When a few ancient Greeks had the mental ability and courage to overcome their religious indoctrination, they found that freedom to express their thoughts about nature and “the gods” was severely constrained. As examples, in about 450 BCE the Athenian legislature (no doubt stimulated by Greek clerics) made it illegal to teach “new theories about the things on high”, Anaxagoras was imprisoned for teaching that the sun was a red hot stone, the Athenians burned Protagoras’ book On The Gods and exiled him, and Socrates was put to death for “not believing in the gods in which the state believes…” The poignancy of a statement by Diogenes the Cynic is then clear. As Diogenes Laërtius reports:
On one occasion he [Diogenes the Cynic] was asked, what was the most excellent thing among men; and he said, “Freedom of speech.”
Later in this post, I’ll briefly comment on the other side of this freedom vs. constraint divide, specifically, as it appeared among the Jews when they were prohibited by the Greeks from worshipping Yahweh, resulting in the terrorist activities (by religious Jews) known as the Maccabean Revolt.

Although speaking against the gods was prohibited in ancient Greece, people were apparently free to discuss how to live “the good life”. Thus, as I briefly addressed in the previous two posts, philosophers such as Democritus, Socrates, Aristotle, Epicurus, Zeno the Stoic, et al. labored to define and pursue ‘virtue’, ‘honor’, ‘happiness’, etc. Similar freedom seems to have just barely been permitted by the Jewish clerics, one result of which was Ecclesiastes.

As I already suggested, the philosophical competence of the author of Ecclesiastes (Qoheleth) wasn’t comparable to that of the Greek philosophers mentioned in the previous paragraph. His philosophy wasn’t coherent. For example, his ideas about fate and chance (quoted earlier in this post) are inconsistent with the conclusion of Ecclesiastes:
Fear God and keep his commandments, because this is the whole duty of man. For God will evaluate every deed, including every secret thing, whether good or evil.
But then, as I also already mentioned, clearly the final two paragraphs of Ecclesiastes wasn't written by Qoheleth (just as the final verse of Deuteronomy, describing the funeral of Moses, obviously wasn't written by Moses). Instead, the final two paragraphs were obviously written by someone telling the reader who Qoheleth was and what he did:
Not only was the Teacher [Qoheleth] wise, but he also taught knowledge to the people; he carefully evaluated and arranged [not “created”] many proverbs. The Teacher sought to find delightful words, and to write accurately truthful sayings [presumably created by others].
More specific criticism of the incoherence of Qoheleth’s philosophy (rather than criticism of the incoherence of Ecclesiastes) is that his ideas about happiness are inconsistent with his “vanity of vanities” theme. Thus, conflicting with his assertion that “all is meaningless”, he wrote (Ecc. 3, 12–13 and 9, 9):
I have concluded that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to enjoy themselves as long as they live, and also that everyone should eat and drink, and find enjoyment in all his toil… Enjoy life with your beloved wife during all the days of your fleeting life…
Furthermore, the above certainly aren’t original ideas (consistent with the concluding remarks in Ecclesiastes that “the Teacher… evaluated and arranged many proverbs… and truthful sayings”). Thus, the above quotation is essentially the same as what Sin-leqe-unnini wrote more than a thousand years earlier in his version of The Epic of Gilgamesh:
What is best for us to do is now to sing and dance; relish warm food and cool drinks; cherish children to whom your love gives life; bathe easily in sweet, refreshing waters; [and] play joyfully with your chosen wife.
And from at least the same time as Sin-leqe-unnini (but perhaps still another 1,000 years earlier), the ancient Egyptian Song of the Harper contains similar ideas:
Seize the day! Hold holiday!
Be unwearied, unceasing, alive.
Let not your heart be troubled during your sojourn on earth,
Grieve not your heart, whatever comes
Recall not the evil…
But have joy, joy, joy, and pleasure!
Nonetheless, is spite of such incoherencies (and plagiarisms) in Ecclesiastes, it seems clear that, during Hellenization, Greek-enhanced ideas that people should, by themselves, explore both virtue and happiness seem to have seeped into Jewish thoughts, undermining the clerics' con game.

Once again, however, the Jewish clerics were disingenuous. Recall the earlier quotation in this post that “arguments against [Ecclesiastes’] inclusion [as canonical] were alleged opposition to statements in Psalms, internal incoherency, and heresy (Epicureanism).” The above quotations show, however, that although Qoheleth’s arguments did suffer from “internal incoherency”, his assessment “that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to enjoy themselves as long as they live, and also that everyone should eat and drink, and find enjoyment in all his toil” is not “Epicureanism”, since on the one hand, it’s derived from sources at least a thousand years earlier than when Epicurus lived, and on the other hand, it has little to do with Epicureanism. Thus, as I tried to show in the previous post, Epicurus didn’t promote hedonism; therefore, by disingenuously associating hedonism with Epicureanism, the Jewish clerics were almost certainly just continuing their campaign against Epicurus’ recommendations to refuse to live one's life based on "unwarranted assumptions and dogma" about "the gods" and "life-after-death".

P.4.4 The Psychology of Martyrdom
The reason, of course, why people seek pleasure and avoid pain is, first, because (as Spinoza said):
Pleasure and pain… are states or passions whereby every man’s power or endeavor to persist in his being is increased or diminished, helped or hindered.
Second, if to Spinoza’s insight is added Maslow’s and additional analyses of the meaning for “persist in [one’s] being”, then one can begin to understand people’s behavior. Thus, for example, one can understand why today’s scientific humanists seek to help intelligent life continue, and as a contrasting example, one can see why today’s fundamentalist Christians and Muslims do whatever their clerics ordain, including engaging in “holy wars”: they do so in the brainwashed belief that, thereby, they’ll “persist in [their] being” forever in paradise.

One can similarly uncover reasons for the clash between ancient Greek and Jewish cultures known as the Maccabean Revolt, but the reasons are buried beneath multiple layers of laws. Thus, as I’ve outlined in earlier chapters (e.g., start here) and in earlier posts in this series (e.g., start here), no law ever came from any god but from our animal instincts: all life “knows” that life is “good” and death is “evil”, and from that fundamental distinction between good and evil, as well as from the fact that the survival of relatively vulnerable humans is enhanced through in-group cooperation, followed all ideas about justice, morality, customs, and (at least for humans) laws.

As I outlined earlier in this post, by ~500 BCE the Greeks had moved beyond early speculations that gods dictated laws (first accepting Solon’s laws and then forming the first democracy, in which the people prescribed the laws). When the Greeks conquered the ancient Jews, however, the Jews (similar to “modern” Muslims) were still stuck with the silly belief that their god dictated their laws. The consequence was as it is today between the West and fundamentalist Muslims: terrorism and war. And I’ll add that, what makes investigation of the Maccabean Revolt still interesting is that, in it, the (Jewish) terrorists won.

Actually, though, in ancient Greece for centuries after it was clear that laws were made by men (e.g., Solon, c.630–c.560 BCE) and not by any god, irrational opinions about “the law” continued. Illustrative is the fragment from Heraclitus (c.540–c.475 BCE): “The people should fight for their law as if defending the city’s wall.” Perhaps by ‘law’ he meant his imagined Logos (an imagined “moral order” of the universe), but in any case, if people are urged to fight, it would be better to urge them to fight for justice, not for their laws. Thus, as I quoted earlier in this post, Anacharsis laughed at Solon, himself, “for imagining the dishonesty and covetousness of his countrymen could be restrained by written laws, which were like spiders’ webs and could catch, it is true, the weak and poor, but easily be broken by the mighty and rich” – a cynical view of a reality that, still today, persists throughout the world.

As another example, as wise as Socrates (469–399 BCE) reportedly was, it’s easy to argue that he made a fool of himself (and a dead fool at that) defending Athenian laws. The trumped-up charges against him, “Socrates is guilty of not believing in the gods in which the state believes, but brings in other new divinities; he also wrongs by corrupting the youth,” seem to have been perpetrated by three accusers: Meletus (possibly because he was a religious fanatic, possibly because Socrates criticized his poetry, and possibly because he was just a puppet of Anytus), Anytus (from a family of tanners whose son Socrates advised not to continue in the tanning business), and Lycon (who may have blamed Socrates for a homosexual relationship between a friend of Socrates and Lycon’s son). When the jury convicted Socrates and his friends prepared a way for him to escape, Plato reports (in Crito) that Socrates stated his own objection to any escape with:
…but will there be no one to remind you [Socrates allegedly said to himself, about the place to which he might escape] that in your old age you violated the most sacred laws from a miserable desire of a little more life?
Plato states that Socrates added (speaking to himself):
Now [if you drink the poison] you depart in innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a victim, not of the laws, but of men. [Happiness is imagining that you’re a victim!] But if you go forth [i.e., escape], returning evil for evil, and injury for injury, breaking the covenants and agreements which you have made with us, and wronging those whom you ought least to wrong, that is to say, yourself, your friends, your country, and us, we shall be angry with you while you live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will receive you as an enemy; for they will know that you have done your best to destroy us.
I like to think, however, that such poppycock reflected Plato’s and not Socrates’ ideas: it isn’t evil to resist injustice, it isn’t immoral to refuse to comply by unjust laws, and it isn't wrong to reject a mob's mindless, unjust verdict. Instead, people should hold covenants with their society only so long as their society’s laws are just. And the idea that laws are from “the world below” (or above) is total nonsense.

Still worse (at least, if the following ideas are Socrates’ and not Plato’s), in Phaedo Plato attributes the following words to Socrates just before he drank the hemlock:
We can and must pray to the gods that our sojourn on earth will continue happy beyond the grave. This is my prayer, and may it come to pass.
If those were Socrates’ words, then Socrates had convinced himself that he possessed an immortal soul and was therefore the first of the fools (or, at least, the first famous fool) who willingly became a martyr for a cause, “thinking” that he would live forever – the same foolishness later told in the story about Jesus and repeated by every subsequent, crazy Christian martyr and maniacal Muslim mujahideen.

Within Greece, the first person whose behavior ridiculed Socrates’ decision was apparently Diogenes the Cynic. He flouted not only Athenian laws but even customs, for example by masturbating in public, reportedly saying: “If only it were as easy to get rid of hunger by rubbing my stomach.” According to Diogenes Laërtius, he “[deferred] all things rather to the principles of nature than to those of law; saying that he was adopting the same fashion of life as Hercules had, preferring nothing in the world to liberty.” Outside of Greece, the first of the famous maniacs who followed Socrates’ foolishness were members of the Maccabee family (also known as the Hasmoneans).

Before the Maccabean Revolt, the ruling Jewish clerics (the Sadducees) rejected Egyptian/ Hindu/ Zoroastrian/ Pythagorean/ Platonic speculations about life after death. I illustrated that statement in earlier posts, e.g., here, as well as with earlier quotations in this post from Ecclesiastes revealing Qoheleth’s opinion that, when you’re dead, you’re just dead. Associated with the Maccabean Revolt, however, Judaism changed dramatically: Jewish clerics known as the Pharisees adopted the Egyptian/ Hindu/ Zoroastrian/ Platonic scheme that people possessed immortal souls, they adopted the Egyptian/ Zoroastrian scheme that people would be judged after death and their eternal fate would be appropriately decided, and they adopted Zarathustra’s idea of an approaching “end of time”, after which a “messiah” would rule the world in “paradisiacal glory”.

Those changes in dogma appear in the OT’s (canonical) Book of Daniel. This book is the first in what became a series of ridiculous “apocalyptic” literature (‘apocalyptic’ is a Greek word meaning ‘revelation’), predicting the destruction of the world. Later examples are the bizarre (drug-induced?) Revelation of Saint John the Divine in the NT as well as similar silliness in the Koran and the Book of Mormon.

Further, it’s interesting (at least to me) that Daniel is (as far as I know) the only book in the OT whose date of composition is amazingly reliably known: claims of the (unknown) author and claims of religious fundamentalist notwithstanding, it wasn’t written during the Babylonian exile (during the sixth century BCE) but between 167 and 163 BCE. Substantial confidence in this narrow window for the composition of Daniel is appropriate, because (for example) as shown in detail by Chris Sandoval:
Actually, it is not a question of philosophical presuppositions, but a question of hard evidence and inference to the best explanation. Daniel’s “predictions” of events up to the desecration of the [rebuilt, Jewish] Temple in 167 BC and the beginning of the Maccabean Revolt substantially came true – yet its predictions of a new invasion of Egypt [ruled by the Greek dynasty called the Ptolemies] by Antiochus [the name of the eight, Greek rulers of the Seleucid Empire, spanning from Syria to parts of today’s Pakistan] and the Resurrection of the Dead soon thereafter totally failed. The author correctly “predicted” the rise of Alexander the Great, and the history of the Seleucid and Ptolemaic kings, but he fared far worse in his predictions that God would supernaturally slay Antiochus Epiphanes, raise the dead, and inaugurate the messianic age in 163 BC. The most likely explanation of this strange pattern is that these prophecies were first composed just before the time they started to fail by an author who had no genuine talent for predicting the future.
Details of such crazy “predictions” of glory for the believers are available at Daniel 12, 1:
At that time Michael, the great prince who watches over your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress unlike any other from the nation’s beginning up to that time. But at that time your own people, all those whose names are found written in the book, will escape.

Many of those who sleep in the dusty ground will awake – some to everlasting life, and others to shame and everlasting abhorrence. But the wise will shine like the brightness of the heavenly expanse. And those bringing many to righteousness will be like the stars forever and ever.
Thus, although the “holy warriors” of the Maccabean Revolt (“those bringing many to righteousness”) weren’t offered Muhammad’s 72 virgins (or, correctly translated, 72 white raisons) for their martyrdom, they were offered the ancient Egyptian and Platonic ideal of being “like the stars, forever and ever.”

If readers are interested in historical information about the Maccabean Revolt and subsequent events, they might want to start with Chapter 29 entitled “The Period of Jewish Independence” of the thorough, on-line book Old Testament Life and Literature (1968) by Gerald A. Larue. Here, I’ll just present and make a few comments about the following stimulating analysis published in the 11 December 2009 issue of The New York Times and written by the competent, Jewish, op-ed columnist David Brooks.
The Hanukkah Story
By David Brooks

Tonight Jewish kids will light the menorah, spin their dreidels and get their presents, but Hanukkah is the most adult of holidays. It commemorates an event in which the good guys did horrible things, the bad guys did good things and in which everybody is flummoxed by insoluble conflicts that remain with us today. It’s a holiday that accurately reflects how politics is, how history is, how life is.

It begins with the spread of Greek culture. Alexander’s Empire, and the smaller empires that succeeded it, brought modernizing ideas and institutions to the Middle East. At its best, Hellenistic culture emphasized the power of reason and the importance of individual conscience. It brought theaters, gymnasiums and debating societies to the cities. It raised living standards, especially in places like Jerusalem.

Many Jewish reformers embraced these improvements. The Greeks had one central idea: their aspirations to create an advanced universal culture. And the Jews had their own central idea: the idea of one true God. The reformers wanted to merge these two ideas.

Urbane Jews assimilated parts of Greek culture into their own, taking Greek names like Jason, exercising in the gymnasium and prospering within Greek institutions. Not all Jews assimilated. Some resisted quietly. Others fled to the hills. But Jerusalem did well. The Seleucid dynasty, which had political control over the area, was not merely tolerant; it used imperial money to help promote the diverse religions within its sphere.

In 167 BCE, however, the Seleucid king, Antiochus IV, issued a series of decrees defiling the temple, confiscating wealth and banning Jewish practice, under penalty of death. It’s unclear why he did this. Some historians believe that extremist Jewish reformers were in control and were hoping to wipe out what they saw as the primitive remnants of their faith. Others believe Antiochus thought the Jews were disloyal fifth columnists in his struggle against the Egyptians and, hence, was hoping to assimilate them into his nation.

Regardless, those who refused to eat pork were killed in an early case of pure religious martyrdom.

As Jeffrey Goldberg, who is writing a book on this period, points out, the Jews were slow to revolt. The cultural pressure on Jewish practice had been mounting; it was only when it hit an insane political level that Jewish traditionalists took up arms. When they did, the first person they killed was a fellow Jew.

In the town of Modin, a Jew who was attempting to perform a sacrifice on a new Greek altar was slaughtered by Mattathias, the old head of a priestly family. Mattathias’s five sons, led by Judah Maccabee, then led an insurgent revolt against the regime.

The Jewish civil war raised questions: Who is a Jew? Who gets to define the right level of observance? It also created a spiritual crisis. This was not a battle between tribes. It was a battle between theologies and threw up all sorts of issues about why bad things happen to faithful believers and what happens in the afterlife – issues that would reverberate in the region for centuries, to epic effect.

The Maccabees are best understood as moderate fanatics. They were not in total revolt against Greek culture. They used Greek constitutional language to explain themselves. They created a festival to commemorate their triumph (which is part of Greek, not Jewish, culture). Before long, they were electing their priests.

On the other hand, they were fighting heroically for their traditions and the survival of their faith. If they found uncircumcised Jews, they performed forced circumcisions. They had no interest in religious liberty within the Jewish community and believed religion was a collective regimen, not an individual choice.

They were not the last bunch of angry, bearded religious guys to win an insurgency campaign against a great power in the Middle East, but they may have been among the first. They retook Jerusalem in 164 BCE and rededicated the temple. Their regime quickly became corrupt, brutal and reactionary. The concept of reform had been discredited by the Hellenizing extremists. Practice stagnated. Scholarship withered. The Maccabees became religious oppressors themselves, fatefully inviting the Romans into Jerusalem.

Generations of Sunday school teachers have turned Hanukkah into the story of unified Jewish bravery against an anti-Semitic Hellenic empire. Settlers in the West Bank tell it as a story of how the Jewish hard-core defeated the corrupt, assimilated Jewish masses. Rabbis later added the lamp miracle to give God at least a bit part in the proceedings.

But there is no erasing the complex ironies of the events, the way progress, heroism and brutality weave through all sides. The Maccabees heroically preserved the Jewish faith. But there is no honest way to tell their story as a self-congratulatory morality tale. The lesson of Hanukkah is that even the struggles that saved a people are dappled with tragic irony, complexity and unattractive choices.
The only quarrels I have with Brooks’ article arise from his claim: “The Maccabees [like today’s Taliban] heroically preserved the Jewish faith.” Thus, on the one hand, no one (including Socrates, the Maccabees, the Jesus described in the New Testament, Christian martyrs, Muslim mujahideen, etc.) is “heroic” who “thinks” that eternal life in paradise follows death: such people aren’t heroic; they’re bonkers. And on the other hand, the Maccabees didn’t preserve “the Jewish faith”; instead, their actions precipitated the conversion of Judaism to Zoroastrianism, yielding Judaism 4.0.

My own skepticism and cynicism lead me to summarize that the Maccabean Revolt provides additional prime examples of clerical quackery: clerics promote killing people to preserve their “sacred” dogma, but if elements of their dogma should impede their con game (i.e., constrain their power), they’ll relatively quickly identify convenient revisions to maintain their privileged, parasitic positions, preserving their own useless carcasses by maintaining control over the imagination (and therefore the purse strings) of the people. Thus, if what the clerical quacks need is some crazed “holy warriors” to do their fighting for them, they’ll offer the deluded fools eternal life in paradise, and if they need their “holy warriors” to fight also on “the Sabbath”, then certainly they’re willing to jettison even one of “God’s” Ten Commandments (as they did during the Maccabean revolt). And the reason why all religious dogma can nevertheless be so “flexible” (when convenient for the clerics) is obviously because, after all, it’s all just make believe.

In addition, my pessimism suggests that humans will need to endure at least another century of such stupidities – should humanity manage to survive that long. During the most recent few centuries, humanists have managed to constrain most Jews and Christians from indulging in such insanities, but far-too-many Muslims continue to indulge in such madness, as is illustrated with the following statement, one of hundreds if not thousands of similar examples that are readily available, this one made by the former Lebanese minister Elie Al-Firzli and aired on Hizbullah’s Al-Manar TV on February 17, 2010:
Religious ideology, the doctrine of faith, the yearning for martyrdom... I cannot see any justification for this longing – and to such an extent – other than the belief in a future in a world other than this. The yearning for martyrdom was one of the reasons for the qualitative leap in the conflict with the Israeli enemy… We have to believe that all the blood that is being shed in the name of martyrdom for the sake of the great victory is the gateway to the true life – the gateway to a life of glory, nobility, and honor… The road to life passes through death.
Would that such idiots would see that the most commonly traveled road to insanity runs through organized religion.

www.zenofzero.net

2010/02/21

Clerical Quackery 8 – Physics versus Metaphysics in Ancient Greece – 4 – Epicureans versus Stoics


This is the 28th in a series of posts dealing with what I call “the God Lie”, the 8th in a subseries dealing with “Clerical Quackery”, and the 4th in the sub-subseries (!) dealing with “Physics versus Metaphysics in Ancient Greece”. In case any readers have been trying to follow this series of posts and are beginning to wonder about its direction, it might be useful if I repeat that my reason for reviewing ideas from ancient Greece was (and still is!) to show how some of the silly, metaphysical ideas of the Greeks (e.g., Plato’s) were subsequently incorporated into the “holy books” of the Jews, Christians, and Arabs, which then went on to pollute the minds of a substantial fraction of all people currently in the world.

For this fourth and final post in this ridiculously brief review of skirmishes and battles that occurred in ancient Greece in the war between science and religion, I want to at least outline the culmination of clashes between those who tried to develop a naturalistic (or materialistic) worldview and those who clung to a supernatural (or idealistic) worldview. This culmination was between the Epicureans (who began to develop a naturalistic worldview) and the Stoics (who clung to supernaturalism).

Now, as readers can easily confirm, an enormous amount of information is available on the internet (and elsewhere) about the Epicureans and the Stoics. For example, at Google the word ‘Epicurean’ yields about 1.8 million hits and ‘Stoic’ yields about 3.2 million hits! Consequently, in this post, the only possibly unique and maybe useful contributions that I can make (even though I’m not a historian) are comments on Epicureanism and Stoicism as viewed by a physicist who is convinced that the god idea is ridiculous. As a result, I’ll devote more space to the naturalistic worldview of the Epicureans (because it relied on halting scientific advances in ancient Greece and rejected most of the then-current god ideas) and I’ll devote less space to the supernaturalistic worldview of the Stoics (because, although it relied on development in Aristotelian logic, the Stoics unfortunately based their deductions on faulty premisses of prehistoric mysticism, just as do “educated” religious people to this day).

For readers who seek additional information about the Epicureans and Stoics, perhaps it would be useful for me to mention some sources that I found particularly valuable. For example, an excellent, succinct, and easy-to-read summary is at the webpage created by Dr. C. George Boeree. For more in-depth analyses, an excellent website on Epicureanism is the one created by Vincent Cooke; another is Epicurus.info, apparently created by Erik Anderson. For thorough information about the Stoics, there is the always-illuminating Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. For still more complete information, there is the amazing, 889-page, 1939 online-book entitled The Life of Greece by Will Durant.

In Durant’s book I found only one serious error, one glaring omission, and one obnoxious bias. The error deals with his description of Stoical contributions to logic. Stoicism developed through extensions to Aristotelian logic, first by Zeno of Citium (c.334–c.262 BCE), the founder of Stoicism [and note the distinction between Zeno of (the Italian city of) Elea, famous for his paradoxes versus the founder of Stoicism, Zeno of Citium (i.e., Cyprus)] and then extended further by Zeno of Citium’s successors, Cleanthes (c.330–c.230 BCE) and especially Chrysippus (c.280–c.207 BCE). On p. 749 of his book, Durant states:
It was probably Chrysippus who divided the Stoic system into logic, natural science, and ethics. Zeno and his successors prided themselves on their contributions to logical theory, but the streams of ink that flowed from them on this subject have left no appreciable residue of enlightenment or use.
Maybe that seemed to be the case when Durant wrote his 1939 book, but subsequently, as described by Keith Devlin at a webpage of the Mathematical Association of America:
What Zeno of Citium actually did was found the Stoic school of logic. Though modern mathematical logic is popularly credited as having its beginnings in the syllogistic logic of Aristotle, most of the fundamental notions of contemporary propositional logic began not with Aristotle but with Zeno and the Stoics… By singling out propositions as the building blocks for reasoning and identifying some of the abstract patterns involved in reasoning with propositions… the Stoics’ contribution to logic was a major intellectual achievement. Together with Aristotelian logic, it paved the way for all subsequent work in logic, right up to the present day, and led to much of twentieth century logic and computer science.
As for the one glaring omission and one obnoxious bias that I found in Durant’s book, I’ll get to them later in this post. First, I’ll try to at least sketch the philosophy of both the Epicureans and the Stoics.

Philosophical Overview
As I argued in an earlier post, the fundamental step in the development of any philosophy is the decision about how to gain knowledge, i.e., one’s epistemology (from the Greek word for ‘knowledge’, epistēmē). Following one’s epistemological choices, one then develops a worldview, from which follows other aspects of one’s philosophy, such as ethics. In this post, therefore, I’ll try to organize my brief reviews of both the Epicureans and Stoics under the headings: Epistemology, Worldview, and Ethics.

For both the Epicureans and Stoics (and for that matter, for all naturalists and supernaturalists), their epistemologies start from making observations and applying reasoning. Usually, naturalists are more skeptical than supernaturalists, more careful about their generalizations, hold them with less fervor, and therefore are less inclined to accept deductions from their generalizations than do supernaturalists, whom naturalists sometimes deride with the term “damnable deducers”. In general, supernaturalists foolishly conclude that they know “the truth”, whereas naturalists generally agree with the Greek philosopher Xenophanes (c.570–c.480 BCE): “All is but a woven web of guesses.

Beyond those similarities (of observing and reasoning) and divergences (of the credence they give to their deductions), the epistemologies of the two groups separate further. Thus, the critical, additional step taken by religious people (i.e., idealistic people with a supernaturalistic worldview) to gain alleged knowledge is generally chosen from among the options crudely illustrated with the following partial list.
• Throughout history, the epistemology of devout Hindus, Jews, and Muslims has relied on authoritarianism: they accept as knowledge – they “believe” as “true” – whatever their cultures (especially their fathers) say.

• Although Christianity began by adopting authoritarianism (as I plan to illustrate in a later post in this series), with the claimed “authority” being “prophecies” contained in the Old Testament plus “miracles” allegedly performed by the “savior” Jesus, yet the epistemology of the majority of “modern”, simpleton Christians (as well as similar Muslims) is the (logical fallacy known as the) Pleasure Principle: if it feels good, it must be “true” – and undoubtedly it feels good to such simpletons to “believe” that they’ll live forever in paradise.

• For less simplistic Christians (as well as some Muslims and some religious Jews), their epistemology continues to rely on reason or logic, which superficially seems commendable, but their logic is based on unfounded premisses (such as Aristotle’s incorrect premiss that a “creator god” was needed as a “first cause”, e.g., of motion).
Below, I’ll sketch a little of the history of the epistemology and resulting philosophies of the Stoics and Epicureans, but before doing so, perhaps the following overview might be useful.

The Stoics continued using the epistemology of all prehistoric, religious people. The data from which they started was the obvious: amazingly complicated and perplexing aspects of nature, on Earth and in the heavens. The reasoning they applied to obtain their inferences was by analogy and seemed obvious (and still seems obvious to all religious people): whereas known things and processes are caused by some agent, there must be some agent (some god or other) who is the cause of natural things and processes. From that sweeping generalization (made by all religious people) the rest followed by deduction: given that god (or gods) exist, then [whatever]. As a result, the Stoics were (and all religious people are) primarily “deducers”, deducing all details from their first, sweeping, unverifiable premiss.

The Epicureans, on the other hand, were more skeptical, less confident that they possessed “the truth”. As Epicurus wrote in his Letter to Pythocles:
It is unwise to desire what is impossible: to proclaim a uniform theory about everything… Rather than committing to explanations based on unwarranted assumptions and dogma, we may only theorize as far as the phenomena allow. For our life has no need of unreasonable and groundless opinions; our one need is untroubled existence. So, if one is satisfied (as he should be) with that which is shown to be less than certain, it is no cause for concern that things can be explained in more than one way, consistent with the evidence. But if one accepts one explanation and rejects another that is equally consistent with the evidence, he is obviously rejecting science altogether and taking refuge in myth.
If asked, most modern physicists would probably respond similarly! But be that as it is, the Epicureans were therefore less dogmatic: for them (and for all naturalists), the supernaturalists’ “solution” is worse than useless.

For simpletons, the supernaturalists’ “solution” obviously seems simple, but for others, it causes more perplexing questions than it proposes to answer. Thus, when told that God created everything, even children ask: “But, where did God come from?” Similarly, as relayed by the philosopher David Hume in his 1757 book The Natural History of Religion:
We are told by Sextus Empiricus that Epicurus, when a boy, reading with his preceptor these verses of Hesiod,

Eldest of beings, Chaos first arose;
Next Earth, wide-stretch’d, the seat of all

the young scholar first betrayed his inquisitive genius, by asking, “And Chaos whence?” but was told by his preceptor that he must have recourse to the philosophers for a solution of such questions. And from this hint Epicurus left philology and all other studies, in order to betake himself to that science, whence alone he expected satisfaction with regard to these sublime subjects.
On the other hand, clerics (rather than “preceptors”) have always made themselves available to answer all such questions about their god(s) – if the simpletons will just do as the clerics say, which of course includes paying the clerics, so they can continue their parasitic existence promoting their quackery.

For naturalists, maybe unfortunately but maybe not, we’re generally stuck with uncertainties and unknowns. Illustrative are the following comments by Richard Feynman, co-winner of the 1965 Nobel Prize for Physics:
The scientist has a lot of experience with ignorance and doubt and uncertainty, and this experience is of very great importance, I think. When a scientist doesn’t know the answer to a problem, he is ignorant. When he has a hunch as to what the result is, he is uncertain. And when he is pretty damn sure of what the result is going to be, he is still in some doubt…

We have found it of paramount importance that in order to progress, we must recognize our ignorance and leave room for doubt. Scientific knowledge is a body of statements of varying degrees of certainty – some most unsure, some nearly sure, but none absolutely certain…

…science [is] a method of finding things out. This method is based on the principle that observation is the judge of whether something is so or not. All other aspects and characteristics of science can be understood directly when we understand that observation is the ultimate and final judge…
The Stoics’ Worldview
Given their epistemological choices to rely on observations of nature, on reason, and on the authority of parents, clerics, and their myths, the Stoics’ worldview was a continuation of “traditional”, supernatural nonsense, as first documented in ancient Greece by Homer and Hesiod. The Stoics, however, added “refinements” that they convinced themselves were rational. Admittedly, such refinements were usually logical, but they were also unsound, because they were based on unsubstantiated premisses about the existences of gods and immortal souls.

The first ancient Greek who apparently convinced himself and his followers that a supernatural worldview was rational seems to have been Pythagoras (c.580–500 BCE), who (as I mentioned in an earlier post in this subseries) seems to have acquired his ideas from other cultures (including the Egyptians, probably the Zoroastrians, and possibly the Hindus). Later Greek mystics who lived among or were significantly influenced by Greek settlers in Italy compounded Pythagoras’ errors, building rational sandcastles in their minds, including:
• Parmenides (c.515–c.450 BCE) who speculated, “all is one” and deduced that “change is impossible”, which led to the paradoxes mentioned in the previous post that were promoted by Zeno of Elea (c.490–c.430 BCE)

• Empedocles (c.490–430 BCE), who speculated that “when, released from the body, you ascend to the free ether; you will become an immortal god, escaping death”, and of course

• Plato (c.428–c.348 BCE), whose wild speculations were unfortunately incorporated into the foundations of not only Stoicism but also the data-less speculations known as Christianity and Islam.
In turn, Plato’s mysticism was apparently derived from many sources, including initiation in one or more “mystery religions” (Egyptian or Pythagorean or Eleusinian).

As I also mentioned in an earlier post, Plato wrote that he wouldn’t reveal "the Mysteries" in his writings. His writings suggest, however, that he incorporated ideas from many earlier mystics, including from Pythagoras about “ideal forms”, from Anaximenes (fl. 585 BCE), who speculated that “the first principle” wasn’t water but air “and as the soul, which is air, holds us together, so the air, or pneuma, of the world is its pervasive spirit, breath, or God”, from Heraclitus (c. 535–c.475 BCE) about the Logos or “reason incorporated into the fabric of the universe”, and from Empedocles (c.490–430 BCE) about humans possessing immortal souls. In particular, it appears that it was Anaximenes’ idea that led Plato to propose that the world (or the universe or nature) also had a soul, “the world soul” (or “the universal soul”).

The fundamental dogma then adopted by the Stoics was that Nature (i.e., the entire universe) was “alive”, with a soul, and was god. For example:
The universe itself is god and the universal outpouring of its soul; it is this same world’s guiding principle, operating in mind and reason, together with the common nature of things and the totality which embraces all existence… [Chrysippus (c.280–c.207 BCE)]

Constantly regard the universe as one living being, having one substance and one soul; and observe how all things have reference to one perception, the perception of this one living being; and how all things act with one movement; and how all things are the cooperating causes of all things that exist; observe too the continuous spinning of the thread and the structure of the web. [Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome from 161–180 CE]
Having adopted that, in general, God was the universe and that, in particular, God was the universe’s “guiding principle” and its “mind and reason” (i.e., Heraclitus’ Logos, which later became the Christians’ Word and earlier was the Zoroastrians’ Asha, the Egyptians’ Ma’at, and the Hindus’ Ritam), the Stoics proceeded to define their ethics, i.e., how they should live consistent with their worldview. The goal they adopted was that humans should live their lives with their souls “in harmony” with the world-soul (i.e., God or Nature). In the process of developing their goal, they apparently relied on some of Aristotle’s errors, which because the result is fundamental for the ethics of both Stoics and Epicureans, I should at least outline.

Aristotle’s Influence
In developing their ethics, the Stoics unfortunately accepted Aristotle’s analysis of the “good life”. I used the word “unfortunately” and, earlier in this post, I mentioned a “glaring omission” in Durant’s book The Life of Greece, because in his analysis of the “good life”, Aristotle made major mistakes, which the Stoics (and for that matter, also the Epicureans) failed to notice and which Durant failed to mention. In earlier chapters of my book, I addressed these Aristotelian errors in multiple chapters (e.g., see here and here); in this post, I’ll try to outline his analysis and its errors in just a few paragraphs.

Aristotle’s errors in his analysis of “the good life” appear in what is otherwise, I think, the best of his books: Nichomachean Ethics. In it, Aristotle abandons his authoritarianism (mentioned in the previous post), starting his book with the humble and amazingly perceptive statement (Bk. 1, Pt. 3):
Our discussion will be adequate if it has as much clearness as the subject-matter admits of, for precision is not to be sought for alike in all discussions, any more than in all the products of the crafts. Now fine and just actions, which political science investigates, admit of much variety and fluctuation of opinion, so that they may be thought to exist only by convention, and not by nature… We must be content, then, in speaking of such subjects and with such premisses to indicate the truth roughly and in outline, and in speaking about things which are only for the most part true and with premisses of the same kind to reach conclusions that are no better. In the same spirit, therefore, should each type of statement be received; for it is the mark of an educated man to look for precision in each class of things just so far as the nature of the subject admits…
As for the goal of his book, to me it’s amazing that, while the Jews, Persians, Egyptians, Hindus, and other religious people were mired in their desire to placate their god (or gods), Aristotle had the presence of mind (and maybe even the audacity!) to wonder about the best way to achieve happiness! And actually, I suspect that Aristotle felt free to explore such a question, because he had concluded (as I outlined in the previous post) that the creator God (who set things in the universe in motion) was subsequently busy “contemplating his own navel”, uninterested in the affairs of mere people (which is viewpoint that Epicurus and later Epicureans also adopted). In fact, the essence of that refrain has reverberated through subsequent millennia (and no doubt will continue): one’s worldview dictates one’s outlook on life.

But generalizations aside for now, Aristotle specifies his goal for Nichomachean Ethics as follows (Bk. I, Pts. 1, 2, & 4):
Every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and pursuit, is thought [especially by Socrates and Plato!] to aim at some good; and for this reason the good has rightly been declared to be that at which all things aim…

If, then, there is some end of the things we do, which we desire for its own sake (everything else being desired for the sake of this), and if we do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for at that rate the process would go on to infinity, so that our desire would be empty and vain), clearly this must be the good and the chief good. Will not the knowledge of it, then, have a great influence on life? Shall we not, like archers who have a mark to aim at, be more likely to hit upon what is right? If so, we must try, in outline at least, to determine what it is…

Therefore, if there is only one final end, this will be what we are seeking, and if there are more than one, the most final of these will be what we are seeking. Now we call that which is in itself worthy of pursuit more final than that which is worthy of pursuit for the sake of something else, and that which is never desirable for the sake of something else more final than the things that are desirable both in themselves and for the sake of that other thing, and therefore we call final without qualification that which is always desirable in itself and never for the sake of something else.

Now such a thing happiness, above all else, is held to be; for this we choose always for itself and never for the sake of something else, but honor, pleasure, reason, and every virtue we choose indeed for themselves (for if nothing resulted from them we should still choose each of them), but we choose them also for the sake of happiness, judging that by means of them we shall be happy. Happiness, on the other hand, no one chooses for the sake of these, nor, in general, for anything other than itself.
What an astoundingly brilliant analysis – and all the more so, because in hindsight, it’s totally obvious!

In his 1964 book An Atheist's Values, however, the philosopher Richard Robinson (1902–96) disagrees:
If you go as far as Aristotle, and demand a good that is a pure end and in no way also a means, you are demanding an impossibility, and will be left with no good at all. Aristotle thought he was left with happiness, which, he said, is sought always for its own sake and never as a means to something else. But happiness is often sought as a means to something else. The manager of a factory tries to make the workers happy in order to get greater production. The politician tries to make the voters happy in order to stay in power. A man may try to make himself happy in order to make himself more efficient, or more conscientious, or in order to make his family happier. Everything whatever logically could be sought by someone as a means to something else. And it seems very probable that everything that is sought by anybody is sought by somebody as a means to something else. And, if that is so, Aristotle's good is non-existent.
I would, however, disagree with Robinson: in his examples of the factory manager and politician, Robinson already suggests that what they sought was their own happiness (via increased factory production and political power, respectively) and in his example of a man seeking to be more efficient, more conscientious, or to make his family happier, Robinson fails to address the obvious question about why the man would seek such, if not for his own, perceived, greater happiness.

Unfortunately, though, Aristotle then started down an unproductive path, beginning with his (I, 7):
Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems a platitude, and a clearer account of what it is still desired. This might perhaps be given, if we could first ascertain the function of man.
That step, seeking to “ascertain the function of man”, started Aristotle down a path that has led literally billions of religious people to lose control of their lives (to their clerics). Aristotle’s inquiry about “the function of man” is equivalent to asking: “What’s the purpose of life?” It fails to recognize the obvious, namely (as I’ve argued elsewhere), the purpose of life is to live!

In addition and simultaneously, Aristotle analysis contains the fatal error of inadequately appreciating what ‘happiness’ is – a somewhat surprising error, given that he was usually so careful (pedantically so!) about the meaning of words. In particular (as I’ve also argued elsewhere), with Aristotle’s almost exclusive focus on (left-brain) analysis, he failed to appreciate that ‘happiness’ is a (right-brain) emotion – an emotion (a right-brain synthesis) informing us of progress that we’re making (or think that we’re making) toward our goals. For example, if you conclude that you’re making progress understanding something (such as the concept of ‘happiness’!), then you’ll feel some amount of happiness, and even if you reach the ridiculous conclusion that you’re making progress toward the totally imaginary goal of living forever in paradise with God or Allah (e.g., by killing an abortion-clinic doctor or by hijacking an airplane and killing thousands of people), then again you’ll be happy: crazy, mind you, but happily so.

Aristotle’s next major error was in his identification of the “function of man”. In an extensive analysis he sought to understand the “proper function of man”, examining what was “virtuous” for humans, defining “virtue” to be what is consistent with one’s “nature” (I, 7):
If happiness is activity in accordance with virtue, it is reasonable that it should be in accordance with the highest virtue; and this will be that of the best thing in us… That which is proper to each thing is by nature best and most pleasant for each thing; for man, therefore, the life according to reason is best and pleasantest, since reason more than anything else is man. This life [according to reason], therefore, is also the happiest…
The silliness of such a conclusion is easy to see if the reader will consider which would make you happier: learning another proof in, say, geometry, or learning that a certain someone loves you as much as you love her or him! Aristotle couldn’t recover from such errors, nor could the Stoics, who followed him down the same ‘stoical’ (emotionless) path.

Stoical Ethics
The Stoics’ epistemological mistakes (relying on reasoning from unsubstantiated premisses rather than relying on evidence), their resultant speculative worldview (of a universal soul, whom they called God or Zeus or Nature), and their unfortunate decision to adopt Aristotle’s analysis that life according to reason was the happiest, led them to pursue what they considered to be “virtue” with fanatical resolve. Illustrative are the following quotations from probably the most famous book by a Stoic, The Discourses by Epictetus (50–138 CE). I’ve organized the quotations by showing links to ideas from earlier mystics.

Links to Socrates’ rejection of other people’s opinions:
For what do you think? Do you think that, if Socrates had wished to preserve externals, he would have come forward and said: “Anytus and Meletus can certainly kill me, but to harm me they are not able?” Was he so foolish as not to see that this way leads not to the preservation of life and fortune, but to another end? What is the reason, then, that he takes no account of his adversaries, and even irritates them?” [II, 2]

Links to Pythagoras’ “Reason is immortal” and Plato’s immortal souls:
This is the true athlete, the man who exercises himself against such appearances. Stay, wretch, do not be carried away. Great is the combat, divine is the work; it is for kingship, for freedom, for happiness, for freedom from perturbation. Remember God: call on him as a helper and protector, as men at sea call on the Dioscuri in a storm. For what is a greater storm than that which comes from appearances which are violent and drive away the reason? For the storm itself, what else is it but an appearance? For take away the fear of death, and suppose as many thunders and lightnings as you please, and you will know what calm and serenity there is in the ruling faculty. [II, 18]

Links to Diogenes the Cynic’s idea of freedom:
So Diogenes says that there is one way to freedom, and that is to die content. And he writes to the Persian king, “You cannot enslave the Athenian state any more than you can enslave fishes.” “How is that? Cannot I catch them?” “If you catch them,” says Diogenes, “they will immediately leave you, as fishes do; for if you catch a fish, it dies; and if these men that are caught shall die, of what use to you is the preparation for war?”…

Well then let us recapitulate the things which have been agreed on. The man who is not under restraint is free, to whom things are exactly in that state in which he wishes them to be; but he who can be restrained or compelled or hindered, or thrown into any circumstances against his will, is a slave. But who is free from restraint? He who desires nothing that belongs to others. And what are the things which belong to others? Those which are not in our power either to have or not to have, or to have of a certain kind or in a certain manner. Therefore [one’s] body belongs to another, the parts of the body belong to another, possession belongs to another. If, then, you are attached to any of these things as your own, you will pay the penalty which it is proper for him to pay who desires what belongs to another…

Therefore see what Diogenes himself says and writes: “For this reason,” he says, “Diogenes, it is in your power to speak both with the King of the Persians and with Archidamus the king of the Lacedaemonians, as you please.” Was it because he was born of free parents? I suppose all the Athenians and all the Lacedaemonians, because they were born of slaves, could not talk with them as they wished, but feared and paid court to them. Why then does he say that it is in his power? “Because I do not consider the poor body to be my own, because I want nothing, because law is everything to me, and nothing else is.” These were the things which permitted him to be free… for freedom is acquired not by the full possession of the things which are desired, but by removing the desire. [IV, 1]

And, of course, links to the founder of Stoicism, Zeno of Citium:
What, then, is the material of the philosopher? Is it a cloak? No, but reason. What is his end? Is it to wear a cloak? No, but to possess the reason in a right state. Of what kind are his theorems? Are they those about the way in which the beard becomes great or the hair long? No, but rather what Zeno says, to know the elements of reason, what kind of a thing each of them is, and how they are fitted to one another, and what things are consequent upon them.
All stoical ideas were, however, not so fanatical as suggested by the above quotations from Epictetus, who seemed to be willing to almost nonchalantly give up his arm or his leg or even his life to anyone who would make a claim on them. As illustrations of more reasonable opinions (and as a prelude to Christianity), the Stoics promoted the brotherhood of mankind, e.g.,
We are members of one great body. Nature planted in us a mutual love, and fitted us for a social life. We must consider that we were born for the good of the whole. [Seneca the Younger, 4–65 CE]
The universe is but one great city, full of beloved ones, divine and human, by nature endeared to each other. [Epictetus, 50–138 CE]
Moreover, by the time of the stoic Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius (121–180 CE), Stoicism had mellowed to the wonderful description given in his Meditations. Illustrative is his following statement (Bk. 11), which is also one of the first references to Christianity external to the creed:
What a soul that is which is ready, if at any moment it must be separated from the body, and ready either to be extinguished or dispersed or continue to exist; but so that this readiness comes from a man’s own judgment, not from mere obstinacy, as with the Christians, but considerately and with dignity and in a way to persuade another, without tragic show.
It’s also clear that the Stoics (as well as the Epicureans) promoted one of the foundational features of the West, namely, individualism, but as readers can find on the internet (e.g., here), it’s debatable if another foundational feature of the West, namely, human rights, should be attributed to the Stoics, in spite of the frequently quoted statement by Rome’s Seneca the Younger (c.4 BCE – 65 CE):
It is a mistake to imagine that slavery pervades a man’s whole being; the better part of him is exempt from it: the body indeed is subjected and in the power of a master, but the mind is independent, and indeed is so free and wild, that it cannot be restrained even by this prison of the body, wherein it is confined.
In fact, it's easy to argue that the Stoics suppressed the concept of human rights, since they promoted the bizarre concept that only your thoughts belong to you (would that it were so; would that indoctrination were prohibited!), and therefore, your claim on anything else (even your body!), for some unexplained reason, had less validity than another person's claim on what we in the West now consider to be your own.

In his book, Durant summarizes the Stoics’ influence as follows:
The Stoics lent countenance to superstition, and had an injurious effect upon science; but they saw clearly the basic problem of their age – the collapse of the theological basis of morals – and they made an honest attempt to bridge the gap between religion and philosophy.
I would agree that the Stoics made “an honest attempt”, but similar to Buddhists, what an impossible method they chose: they sought happiness (an emotion) by suppressing emotion! That they could accomplish such a feat and that other mystics can convince themselves that, if they become slaves to their god, then they'll be free, and if they are killed for their cause, then they’ll live forever, leads me to marvel at the ability of humans to fool themselves. Feynman saw the problem and described the solution well:
Science is a way of trying not to fool yourself. The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool.
Epicureanism
While Zeno of Citium (c.334–c.262 BCE) and his followers suppressed emotions by extending Aristotle’s logic, applying it to the Socratic problem of how to live a “good life”, and unfortunately adopting Plato’s (and others’) unjustified premisses, Epicurus (341–270 BCE) developed his philosophy from the foundation provided by Democritus (c.460–c.370 BCE) and by refusing to follow Aristotle down the path he explored trying to ascertain “the function of man.” Instead, and perhaps also following the astronomer Eudoxus of Cnidus (c.410–c.355 BCE), Epicurus sought methods to optimize happiness, seeking a deliberate and delicate balance between seeking some pleasures while enduring some pains. Below, I’ll try to illustrate those comments and then comment on Epicurus’ failure to investigate and understand the nature of ‘pleasure’ and ‘pain’, an error that began to be corrected almost 2,000 years later by the (stoical) “father of psychology”, Baruch Spinoza (1632–77). First, however, and consistent with my earlier remarks, I want to comment on the epistemology and worldview that Epicurus apparently adopted.

Epicurus’ Epistemology
As I already mentioned, the fundamental step in developing one’s worldview is to decide how knowledge is to be gained. To try to understand Epicurus’ epistemology, we’re hampered because all of the ~300 books (or scrolls) that he reportedly wrote were lost – or destroyed by his adversaries (including first the Stoics and then the Christians). Several of his short documents survived, however, including four of his letters, a list of his principal doctrines, his Last Will, and what have become known as “the Vatican Sayings” (contained in a 14th century document from the Vatican Library and which include quotations from later Epicureans). Copies of the surviving documents are available at Vincent Cook’s website.

Moreover, some of Epicurus’ complete books were apparently available to some ancient authors, and from those authors, additional information is available, specifically about Epicurus’ epistemology. Thus, in Chapter 10, entitled “The Life of Epicurus”, of his book The Lives and Opinions of Famous Philosophers, written in about 230 CE, Diogenes Laërtius references Epicurus’ book The Canon or The Criterion [of Truth], from which Epicurus’ epistemology is clear. In the following quotation from Diogenes Laërtius, the notes in braces, {…}, seem to have been added by Erik Anderson; I’ve added a few notes in brackets, […].
[Epicurus’] Three Divisions of Philosophy: Canonics, Physics, and Ethics


But first [writes Diogenes Laërtius], some few preliminary remarks about [Epicurus’] division of his philosophy. It is divided into three subjects: Canonics, Physics, and Ethics. Canonics forms the introduction to the system and is found in a single work entitled The Canon. Physics consists of a comprehensive theory of nature; it is found in the thirty-seven books On Nature and is also summarized among his Letters. Ethics, finally, deals with choice and avoidance, which may be found in the books On Lifecourses, among his Letters, and in the book On the End-Goal.

Canonics and Physics are usually treated jointly. The former defines the criterion of truth and discusses first principles (the elementary part of philosophy), while the latter deals with the creation and destruction of things in nature. Ethics counsels upon things chosen versus those avoided, the art of living, and the end-goal. Dialectics they dismiss as superfluous – they say that ordinary terms for things is sufficient for physicists to advance their understanding of nature.

Some Elaboration on Canonics

Now in The Canon Epicurus states that the criteria of truth are:
• sensations {tas aistheses},
• preconceptions {prolepses}, and
• feelings {ta pathon}.
Epicureans in general also include: mental images focused by thought. His own statements are also to be found in the Letter to Herodotus and the Principle Doctrines.

“Sensation,” he says, “is non-rational and unbiased by memory, for it is neither produced spontaneously {inside the mind} nor can it add or subtract information from its external cause. 


“Nothing exists which can refute sensations. Similar sensations cannot refute each other {e.g., things seen}, because they are equally valid. Dissimilar sensations cannot either {e.g., things seen versus things heard}, since they do not discriminate the same things. Thus, one sensation cannot refute another, since they all command our attention. Nor can reason refute sensations, since all reason depends on them. The reality of independent sensations confirms the truth of sensory information (seeing and hearing are real, just as experiencing pain is).

“It follows that we can draw inferences about things hidden from our senses only from things apparent to our senses. Such knowledge results from applying sensory information to methods of confrontation, analogy, similarity, and combination, with some contribution from reasoning also.

“The visions produced by insanity and dreams also stem from real objects, for they do act upon us; and that which has no reality can produce no action.”


Preconception, the Epicureans say, is a kind of perception, correct opinion, conception, or general recollection of a frequently experienced external object. For example: ‘Such-and-such kind of thing is a man’ – as soon as the word ‘man’ is uttered, the figure of a man immediately comes to mind as a preconception, already formed by prior sensations.

Thus, the first notion a word awakens in us is a correct one; in fact, we could not inquire about anything if we had no previous notion of it. For example: ‘Is that a horse or an ox standing over there?’ One must have already preconceived the forms of a horse and an ox in order to ask this. We could not even give names to things if we had no preliminary notion of what the things were. It follows that preconceptions clearly exist.

Opinions also depend on preconceptions. They serve as our point of reference when we ask, for example, ‘How do we know if this is a man?’ The Epicureans also use the word assumption for opinion. An opinion may be true or false. True opinions are confirmed and uncontradicted {by the testimony of sensations}; false opinions are unconfirmed and contradicted {by the testimony of sensations}. Hence they speak of awaiting {testimony} when one awaits a closer view of an object before proclaiming it to be, for example, a tower. 


Feelings they say are two: pleasure and pain, which affect every living being. Pleasure is congenial to our nature, while pain is hostile to it. Thus they serve as criteria for all choice of avoidance.

They also say that there are two kinds of philosophical inquiry: one concerns facts, the other mere words.
The above clearly communicates the bases of Epicurus’ epistemology: he based his worldview and his philosophy not on words (as did Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, and the earlier Sophists) but on data determined by the senses and from
… inferences about things hidden from our senses only from things apparent to our senses. Such knowledge results from applying sensory information to methods of confrontation, analogy, similarity, and combination, with some contribution from reasoning also.
In his Letter to Herodotus, Epicurus adds (in which the additions between slashes, /…/, are “scholarly repairs to text deemed corrupt or missing”):
… we must conduct all our investigations based on the testimony of our senses, feelings, and all other valid criteria. In this way, we shall have some sign by which to make inferences about things awaiting confirmation /by the testimony of our senses/ and also about things /that will remain/ hidden from our senses.
In fact, scientists apply the same methods to this day, save only that we use instruments developed to extend the range of our senses.

Naturalists’ Worldview
As I tried to indicate in earlier posts in this subseries, a naturalistic worldview started to be developed in ancient Greece by Thales (c.624–c.545 BCE), who perhaps absorbed some of his ideas from travels in Mesopotamia and beyond. Thales’ speculation that “water is the cause of all things” led to a host of other speculations about natural causes by other Ionian Greeks (i.e., Greek settlers living in what is now western Turkey). These speculations included the idea of Anaximander (c.610–c.546 BCE) that humans were “like another animal, namely a fish, in the beginning” and the idea of Leucippus (first half of 5th century BCE) and his student Democritus (c.460–c.370 BCE) that “in reality there are atoms and space.” It was this idea of atoms that, a century later, became foundational for the worldview adopted by Epicurus (341–270 BCE). In what follows, consequently, I first want to comment on the ideas of some of the earlier materialists or naturalists.

Leucippus’ Atomic Hypothesis
According to the book The Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers by Diogenes Laërtius (already referenced), when Democritus was a boy in the Thracian city of Abdera (in the NE corner of Greece), he was a pupil of the Magi (Zoroastrian priests of what is now Iran) and the Chaldeans (astronomers and astrologers of what is now southern Iraq),
… whom [the Persian king] Xerxes had left with his father as teachers, when he had been hospitably received by him… and from these men he [Democritus], while still a boy, learned the principles of astronomy and theology. Afterwards, his father entrusted him to Leucippus…
Other than being usually credited with formulating the atomic hypothesis, little is known about Democritus’ teacher Leucippus. He apparently belonged to the Ionian school of natural philosophy (of Thales, Anaximander, Anaximenes, Anaxagoras, et al.), founding his own school in about 440 BCE.

According to the Wikipedia article on Leucippus, the legend about his being a student of Zeno of Elea, as claimed in the referenced book by Diogenes Laërtius, is “totally false”. It does appear to be correct, however, that Leucippus’ main impetus for developing his atomic hypothesis was to reject the idea promoted by Zeno and his teacher Parmenides that a void couldn’t exist, instead proposing that the universe was entirely a “void” – save for the presence of what he called atoms (derived from the Greek prefix a- , used for negation, and from temnein meaning “to cut”; so, ‘atom’ means ‘uncuttable’ or ‘indivisible’). In turn, Leucippus’ atomic hypothesis was probably influenced by the Ionian physicist Anaxagoras (c.500–c.428 BCE), who lived at approximately the same time and who proposed that all things “originally… existed in infinitesimally small fragments of themselves, endless in number… /which originally/ existed in a confused and indistinguishable form /and which relied on/ mechanical processes [Nous] in the formation of order.”

Leucippus’ atomic hypothesis was revolutionary, summarized well by Feynman in Vol. II of his Lectures on Physics:
If, in some cataclysm, all scientific knowledge were to be destroyed, and only one sentence passed on to the next generation of creatures, what statement would contain the most information in the fewest words? I believe it is the atomic hypothesis (or atomic fact, or whatever you wish to call it) that all things are made of atoms – little particles that move around in perpetual motion, attracting each other when they are a little distance apart, but repelling upon being squeezed into one another. In that one sentence you will see an enormous amount of information about the world, if just a little imagination and thinking are applied.
We now know that the atomic hypothesis contains “an enormous amount of information”; Feynman illustrates what he meant in a great video at the TED website. When the atomic hypothesis was proposed by Leucippus, promoted by Democritus, and a century-or-so later adopted by Epicurus, however, it was little more than speculation! Nonetheless, Leucippus’ speculation stimulated subsequent Epicureans (such as the Roman author Lucretius and most modern scientists) to develop a materialistic or naturalistic worldview, in dramatic conflict with the idealistic, supernatural worldviews of the Stoics and all religious people.

It isn’t clear what stimulated Leucippus to take such an enormous leap into the unknown (to postulate the existence of atoms separated by “the void”, without data to support his speculation). It might be thought that the stimulation was similar to how today’s teachers usually introduce the idea of atoms; that is, by asking students to imagine cutting something into smaller and smaller pieces until, with one more attempted cut, the pieces would no longer be the same substance. For example, continue to cut a crystal of table salt into pieces until finally only one molecule of sodium chloride remains; cut that one molecule, and the result will be one atom of sodium and one of chlorine (and so on, if the teacher wishes to introduce students to ideas about electrons, nuclei, nucleons, quarks, etc.). Although Leucippus might have imagined such cutting until no more cutting was possible (for, after all, he created the word ‘atom’, meaning ‘uncuttable’), yet historians suggest that he proposed his idea to resolve some of Zeno’s (or Parmenides’) paradoxes, namely, that change is an illusion and that movement is impossible.

How Zeno and Parmenides managed to trap themselves in such paradoxes is almost unimaginable, at least for those of us familiar with the idea of atoms separated by “a void” (i.e., with atoms sitting in “empty” space). What apparently happened was that Parmenides made the mistake (common to almost all ancient Greek philosophers) of relying only on reason. He described his reliance on reasoning (rather than data) by writing:
Let not the common usages of men
Persuade your better taught experience,
To trust to men’s unsafe deceitful sight,
Or treacherous ears, or random speaking tongue:
Reason alone will prove the truth of facts.
Then, with the mistake of relying only on reason, Parmenides concluded that a void (what we call ‘space’ or “the vacuum”) could not exist, his (logical) argument being:
For never shall this prevail, that things that are not are.
That is, he apparently reasoned: since a void is nothing, it can’t exist.

Of course, it’s now obvious to us that Parmenides trapped himself in word games, not only because the void that he was considering was not ‘nothing’ but ‘space’ or ‘the vacuum’ (which is filled with negative energy) but also because he didn’t understand the concept of ‘existence’. And actually, even Epicurus continued to promote the same mistake, erroneously stating in his Letter to Herodotus:
Nothing comes into existence from non-existence. For if that were possible, anything could be created out of anything, without requiring seeds. And if things which disappear became non-existent, everything in the universe would have surely vanished by now. But the universe has always been as it is now, and always will be, since there is nothing it can change into. Nor is there anything outside the universe which could infiltrate it and produce change.
In contrast, it now seems clear both that our entire universe sums to nothing (in that, in total, almost certainly it contains zero electrical charge, zero momentum, and zero mass/energy) and that “totally nothing” can in fact yield something, e.g., by splitting into equal positive and negative “somethings” (such as energy), as presumably happened, leading to the Big Bang. Thereby, both Parmenides’ interpretation of his stated premiss “nothing comes from nothing” and Epicurus’ interpretation of his stated premiss “nothing comes into existence from non-existence” seem to be invalid: it appears that our universe (in total, nothing) did in fact come from nothing! As Einstein enigmatically said: “[our] universe [is] matter expanding into nothing that is something.”

From his incorrect conclusion that a void couldn’t exist, Parmenides then deduced that motion could not exist (for it would mean motion of something into nothing, which he had reasoned couldn’t exist), concluding:
[What exists] is now, all at once, one and continuous... Nor is it divisible, since it is all alike; nor is there any more or less of it in one place, which might prevent it from holding together, but all is full of what is.
Parmenides’ conclusion that motion couldn’t exist was then illustrated by Zeno in his paradoxes.

Leucippus apparent argument, in contrast, was devastatingly simple. Unlike Parmenides and Zeno, he relied on evidence that motion does, in reality, occur. Therefore, he apparently reasoned, there must be a void into which any material body moves. He then leaped to the conjecture that any material body must be made of smallest parts (atoms), that such atoms exist within what was otherwise a void, and that change occurs by rearrangements and motion of atoms in the void.

Democritus’ Extrapolations
Democritus embraced and expanded Leucippus’ ideas of atoms in the void. Most unfortunately for us, though, none of Democritus’ books (or scrolls) has been found. What we now know about his ideas is only through fragments of his writings and “secondhand reports, sometimes unreliable or conflicting.” Immediately below are some inferences about his ideas in physics; later, I’ll list some inferences about his ethical ideas.

For both sets of resulting “quotations”, however, it’s to be emphasized that they “do not correspond [exactly] to any extant work”. Yet, to help the reader understand what seem to have been Democritus’ ideas (based on fragments and secondhand reports), the ideas are written as if they were direct quotations. As can be found at the referenced website, the original authors of these “extrapolations” are Kathleen Freeman (in Ancilla to The Pre-Socratic Philosophers, Oxford, Basil Blackwell, 1948) and G.S. Kirk and J.E. Raven (in “The Pre-Socratic Philosophers”, Selections from Early Greek Philosophy, Milton C. Nahm, Cambridge University Press, 1962).
• We see changes in things because of the rearrangement of atoms, but atoms themselves are eternal. Words such as ‘nothing’, ‘the void’, and ‘the infinite’ describe space. Individual atoms are describable as ‘not nothing’, ‘being’, and ‘the compact’. There is no void in atoms, so they cannot be divided. I hold the same view as Leucippus regarding atoms and space: atoms are always in motion in space.
• The material cause of all things that exist is the coming together of atoms and void. Atoms are too small to be perceived by the senses. They are eternal and have many different shapes, and they can cluster together to create things that are perceivable. Differences in shape, arrangement, and position of atoms produce different things. By aggregation they provide bulky objects that we can perceive with our sight and other senses.

• It has often been demonstrated that we do not grasp how each thing is or is not. Sweet exists by convention, bitter by convention, color by convention. Atoms and void alone exist in reality… We know nothing accurately in reality, but only as it changes according to the bodily condition, and the constitution of those things that flow upon the body and impinge upon it. It will be obvious that it is impossible to understand how in reality each thing is.

• There are two ways of knowledge, one genuine, one imperfect. To the latter belong all the following: sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch. The real is separated from this. When the imperfect can do no more – neither see more minutely, nor hear, nor smell, nor taste, nor perceive by touch with greater clarity – and a finer investigation is needed, then the genuine way of knowledge comes in as having a tool for distinguishing more finely.
In the last of the above “quotations”, it’s unclear what Democritus might have meant by “the genuine way of knowledge”. We now know that “the genuine way to knowledge” (about the world external to our minds) is to use the scientific method (“guess, test, and reassess”), but it’s unclear what experiments Leucippus and Democritus could have conducted to test the atomic hypothesis – especially since it was another 2,000-and-more years before appropriate experimental methods were developed! Perhaps they could have cut samples of various materials until their taste, color, etc. became imperceptible, but maybe Democritus meant that “the genuine way of knowledge" was, as Parmenides unfortunately said: “Reason alone will prove the truth of facts.”

Evidence to support the possibility that Democritus did propose to rely on “reason alone” is available in the following extrapolation of one of his most spectacular speculations (from the same source as the “quotations” given above):
There is an infinite number of worlds of different sizes: some are larger than ours, some have no sun or moon, others have suns or moons that are bigger than ours. Some have many suns and moons. Worlds are spaced at differing distances from each other; in some parts of the universe there are more worlds, in other parts fewer. In some areas they are growing, in other parts, decreasing. They are destroyed by collision with one another. There are some worlds with no living creatures, plants, or moisture.
It may be another 2,000 years before evidence is available to test that speculation!

Yet, although Democritus was obviously prone to wild speculations, there are some hints that he sought to gain reliable knowledge. An example is his oft-quoted line:
I would rather discover one true cause than gain the kingdom of Persia.
In addition, as a result of his travels to Egypt, Ethiopia, Persia, and perhaps India, he apparently boasted:
Of all my contemporaries I have covered the most ground in my travels, making the most exhaustive inquiries the while; I have seen the most climates and countries and listened to the greatest number of learned men.
After exhausting his inheritance in his travels, he reportedly gave public lectures in his hometown of Abdera. Also, he wrote more than 60 “books” (or scrolls) dealing with a great variety of subjects, including ethics, physics, mathematics, music, and cosmology. It’s reported by Petronius (c.27–66 CE) in Chapter 11 of his presumed fictional story The Satyricon that “Democritus extracted the juices of every herb, and spent his life in experimenting, that no virtue of mineral or plant might escape detection.” In addition, Democritus “acquired fame with his knowledge of natural phenomena and predicted changes in the weather.” His mantra seems to have been:
Believe not everything, but only what is proven: the former is foolish, the latter the act of a sensible man.
In the above “quotation”, it’s also unclear what Democritus might have meant by the word ‘proven’; it would have been better if he used a word such as ‘demonstrated’.

If readers compare the above “extrapolations” of Democritus’ ideas about physics with the ideas promoted by Epicurus (as given in his Letter to Herodotus), a great many similarities will be found. In fact, substantial uncertainties persist about which of the surviving Epicurean ideas should be attributed to him versus Democritus. Interested readers might want to read Karl Marx’s 1841 doctoral dissertation, entitled The Difference Between the Democritean and Epicurean Philosophy of Nature in which Marx sought to differentiate between the ideas of the two. But for present purposes, pursuing such distinctions would be a distraction.

It would be more relevant to include, here, at least a brief description of the progress made developing the scientific method by Democritus’ friend (and/or his doctor), “the father of modern medicine”, Hippocrates (c. 460–377 BCE). In fact, in an earlier version of this post, I did include an outline of Hippocrates’ accomplishments, but not only did it continue for multiple pages, it was somewhat tangential: as important (even revolutionary) as were his accomplishments in developing the scientific method, his subject (medicine) wasn’t sufficiently broad to stimulate a major challenge to existing worldviews (and their associated outlooks on life). Therefore, I’ll postpone describing some of Hippocrates’ ideas until a later appendix [where I’ll also describe some of the progress by some astronomers, some mathematicians (including Euclid) and the amazing Archimedes (c.287–212 BCE)] and here just state that other progress was being made that influenced the development of Epicurus’ worldview.

Epicurus’ Worldview
In developing his worldview, Epicurus was apparently influenced not only by scientific advances since the time of Leucippus and Democritus (including those by Hippocrates and Aristotle) but also by other philosophers. For example, in his 1939 book, Durant states (p. 739):
From Aristippus [c.435–c.356 BCE] he [Epicurus, 341–c.270 BCE] learned the wisdom of pleasure, and from Socrates [c.470–399 BCE] the pleasure of wisdom; from Pyrrho [c.360–c.270 BCE] he took the doctrine of tranquility, and a ringing word for it – ataraxia. He must have watched with interest the career of his contemporary Theodorus of Cyrene, who preached an unmoralistic atheism [a phrase that suggests Durant’s Christian bias] so openly in Athens that the Assembly indicted him for impiety – a lesson that Epicurus did not forget.
Epicurus may have been influenced, also, by a disciple of Democritus, Diagoras of Melos. Diagoras is described as “the first atheist”, he “made the Eleusinian Mysteries public, and discouraged people from being initiated… The Athenians accused him of impiety, and he was forced to flee the city.” As a result, Epicurus may have tempered his criticism of “the gods”, allowing the possibility that they existed but apparently adopting Aristotle’s position that the gods weren’t interested in the affairs of mere humans.

But regardless of Epicurus’ own opinions about the gods and in view of space limitations for this post, below I’ll simply list a few additional elements of his worldview (beyond those of Democritus), without further attempts to identify their possible origins. Of the many ideas in his worldview, I’ve listed below only those that were most revolutionary for his time, that have withstood the test of time, and that generated so much clerical bitterness (because the ideas undermined the clerics’ con games). In this list, I’ve used the same categorization as in Epicurus’ Letter to Herodotus and again following Erik Anderson, I’ve used /…/ to indicated “scholarly repairs to text deemed corrupt or missing.”

Atomic Motion:
Motion [of atoms] through the void may traverse any ordinary distance in an extraordinarily short time, because the lack of obstruction from colliding bodies. Only through collision and non-collision can atomic motion resemble “slow” and “fast.”

The Soul:
When the whole body is destroyed, it no longer possesses sensation, because the soul is dissolved… Those who say that the soul is incorporeal are talking nonsense.

World-Systems:
{World-systems, like all compounds, are perpetually created and destroyed}… /...Moreover, with regard to living things,/ it cannot be proven that the seeds from which animals, plants, and other things originate are not possible on any particular world-system.

Natural History:
In their environment, primitive men were taught or inspired by instinct to do many kinds of things, but reason later built upon what had been begun by instinct. New discoveries were made – faster among some people, slower among others. In some ages and eras /progress occurred by great leaps/, in others by small steps… Words, for instance, were not initially coined by design. Men naturally experienced feelings and impressions which varied in the particulars from tribe to tribe, so that each of the individual feelings and impressions caused them to vocalize something in a particular way, in accordance also with differing racial and environmental factors.

Celestial Phenomena:
The purpose of physics is to correctly identify the causes of phenomena that concern us… Our happiness depends on this, and on knowing what celestial bodes really are, and on related facts… Additionally, the worst turmoil in human souls arise because:

• They think that celestial bodies are blessed and immortal [i.e., godlike] yet desire, scheme, and act in ways that are incompatible with divine nature.

• They either foresee their deaths as eternal suffering, as depicted in myths, or they fear the very lack of consciousness that accompanies death as if it could be of concern to them.

• They suffer all this, not because there is a reasonable basis, but because of their wild imagination – and by not setting a limit to suffering, their level of turmoil matches or exceeds what they would suffer even if there were a reasonable basis.

Peace of mind comes from having been freed from all this, and by always remembering the essential principles of our whole system of belief. Thus, we should pay attention to those feelings and sensations which are present within us (both those we have in common with humankind at large, and the particular ones we have in each of ourselves) according to each of the criteria of truth. Only then shall we pin down the sources of disturbance and fear. And when we have learned the causes of celestial phenomena and related events, we shall be free from whatever is terrifying to the rest of humankind.
In his Letter to Pythocles, Epicurus adds:
The regularity of celestial motions must be accounted for like events on earth, without introducing the need of the gods.
Naturalistic Ethics
As already mentioned, once decisions are made about how knowledge is gained and a resulting worldview is established, consistent ethics can be developed. In the case of Epicurus, it appears that many of his ethical ideas (but not all) were restatements of the ethics of earlier naturalists, especially Democritus. Therefore, below I’ll first briefly review some of Democritus’ ideas, after inserting some additional comments about Democritus.

Democritus’ Ethics
As also already mentioned, the atomic hypothesis of Leucippus and Democritus was sufficiently broad and fundamental that Democritus was able to develop a worldview and associated ethics based upon it – which if one stops to think about it, is really quite amazing. That is, although, now, their worldview (that the universe is natural) has sufficient experimental support that we scientific humanists (or naturalists or Brights) feel secure about it, one can imagine that the mystics and maybe others of his day would have considered Democritus foolish (or worse) to erect an ethical philosophy on such a “miniscule” foundation, i.e., invisible atoms versus the mystics’ visible universe!

Actually, though, Democritus may have based his philosophy (or also based his philosophy) on ideas he picked up during his travels. In particular, as already mentioned, he reportedly traveled extensively (“squandering” his inheritance on his travels), including a trip to India. In India at the time, two competing schools of philosophy emerged, a mystical but skeptical school developed under Siddhārtha Gautama (the Buddha) and a skeptical, materialistic school under Cārvāka that promoted ideas similar to those later promoted by Democritus. Unfortunately, little is known about the Cārvāka philosophy (except that it was materialistic and atheistic), because the “ruling” clerics (the Hindus) apparently destroyed the writings of the school – similar to how clerics throughout history have reacted to ideas that challenge their privileged positions.

Yet, however Democritus might have developed his insight, the result was the atheistic premiss of his worldview:
The universe is infinite, because it has not been produced by a creator. The causes of what now exists had no beginning.
Then, having laid the above-stated foundation for his worldview (with no “creator god”), Democritus proceeded to construct a consistent ethical philosophy. Extrapolations of his resulting ideas about how best to live one’s life include the following, which I’ve copied from the same source as for the “quotations” given earlier in this post and which, therefore, should be subject to the same doubt about what his actual statements were:
Imperturbable wisdom is worth everything. To a wise man, the whole earth is open, for the native land of a good soul is the whole earth. [An assessment similar to that of Socrates, Diogenes the Cynic, and the later, cosmopolitan ideas of the Stoics and Epicureans.]

Men ask in their prayers for health from the gods, but do not know that the power to attain this lies in themselves. By doing the opposite of what they should do, through lack of control, they themselves become the betrayers of their own health to their desires. The things needed by the body are available to all without toil and trouble. But the things which require toil and trouble and which make life disagreeable are not desired by the body but by an ill-constitution of the mind. [Ideas perhaps influenced by Hippocrates and that preceded, by about a century, similar ideas of the Epicureans and Stoics.]

It is possible without spending much of one’s money to educate one’s children, and so to build round their property and their persons a fortification and a safeguard. Frivolity in an educator of youth is the worst of all things, for it breeds those pleasures from which wickedness comes. [Ideas repeated by Socrates and Aristotle and adopted by the Cynics.]

Poverty under democracy is as much to be preferred to so-called prosperity under an autocracy, as is freedom to slavery. [Ideas rejected by Plato but adopted by both Epicureans and Stoics.]

People are fools who yearn for what is absent, but neglect what they have… [Similar to the (later) Jewish saying: “Happiness is wanting what you already have.”]

Happiness does not dwell in flocks of cattle or in gold. Happiness, like unhappiness, is a property of the soul [which Democritus, probably influenced by Hippocrates, identifies as the mind]… Men find happiness neither by means of the body nor through possessions, but through uprightness and wisdom. [An incomplete idea that was promoted by Socrates, Aristotle, and both Epicureans and Stoics, improved upon by Spinoza, and corrected by modern psychologists, building on the work of Maslow.]

Cheerfulness or well-being is created in man through a harmonious life and moderation of enjoyment. [An idea as old as Sin-leqe-unnini’s Gilgamesh and Homer’s Odyssey and the essence of both Epicureanism and Stoicism. Incidentally, Democritus was known as “the laughing {or cheerful} philosopher” – a moniker that he may have earned because of his cheerfulness but perhaps because he laughed at human follies, seeming to mock people and their priests.]

One must respect one’s own opinion most, and this must stand as the law of one’s soul, preventing one from doing anything improper. [Ideas adopted by both the Epicureans and Stoics.]

Pleasure and absence of pleasure are the criteria of what is profitable and what is not. Accept no pleasure unless it is beneficial. Moderation multiplies pleasures and increases pleasure. If one oversteps the due measure, the most pleasurable things become most unpleasant. [More ideas adopted by both Epicureans and Stoics.]

Some men, not knowing about the dissolution of mortal nature, but acting on knowledge of the suffering in life, afflict the period of life with anxieties and fears, inventing false tales about the period after the end of life. [An idea that most separates the naturalistic Epicureans from the supernaturalistic Stoics – as well as, of course, from all clerics who promoted and still promote the oxymoron of “life after death”.]
The above were revolutionary ideas; one can easily see why mystics such as Plato would react with hostility. In fact, Aristotle’s student Aristoxenus (364–304 BCE) reportedly wrote:
Plato wanted to burn all the works of Democritus but was unable to do so, because the books were so popular and widely distributed.
The same source states:
Other sources suggest that the loss of most of Democritus’ writings is evidence that Plato succeeded. In either event, Plato managed to avoid any mention of Democritus in his own writings.
Eudoxus’ Ethics
Another of Plato’s famous students, however, apparently disagreed with him, agreeing with Democritus’ statement: “Pleasure and absence of pleasure are the criteria of what is profitable and what is not.” His name (meaning “good opinion”) was Eudoxus of Cnidus (c.410–c.355 BCE), where Cnidus was a city “on the Resadiye Peninsula, on the Black Sea, now in Turkey.” According to the Wikipedia article on Eudoxus:
Eudoxus’s father Aeschines of Cnidus loved to watch stars at night. Eudoxus first traveled to Tarentum to study with Archytas, from whom he learned mathematics. While in Italy, Eudoxus visited Sicily, where he studied medicine with Philiston… Around 387 BC, at the age of 23, he traveled with the physician Theomedon… to Athens to study with the followers of Socrates. He eventually became the pupil of Plato, with whom he studied for several months, but due to a disagreement they had a falling out… Around 368 BC, Eudoxus returned to Athens with his students. According to some sources, around 367 he assumed headship of the Academy during Plato’s period in Syracuse, and taught Aristotle.
I didn’t find details about Eudoxus’ “falling out” with Plato (possible causes include disagreements over astronomy, mathematics, or Democritus’ ideas about pleasure), but in Nichomachean Ethics (X, 1) Aristotle provides the following information, apparently supporting Eudoxus’ (and therefore, Democritus’) ideas about pleasure and pain – while (once again) criticizing Plato:
Eudoxus thought pleasure was the good because he saw all things, both rational and irrational, aiming at it, and because in all things that which is the object of choice is what is excellent, and that which is most the object of choice the greatest good; thus the fact that all things moved towards the same object indicated that this was for all things the chief good (for each thing, he argued, finds its own good, as it finds its own nourishment); and that which is good for all things and at which all aim was the good. His arguments were credited more because of the excellence of his character than for their own sake; he was thought to be remarkably self-controlled, and therefore it was thought that he was not saying what he did say as a friend of pleasure, but that the facts really were so.

He believed that the same conclusion followed no less plainly from a study of the contrary of pleasure; pain was in itself an object of aversion to all things, and therefore its contrary must be similarly an object of choice. And again that is most an object of choice which we choose not because or for the sake of something else, and pleasure is admittedly of this nature; for no one asks to what end he is pleased, thus implying that pleasure is in itself an object of choice. Further, he argued that pleasure when added to any good, e.g., to just or temperate action, makes it more worthy of choice, and that it is only by itself that the good can be increased.

This argument seems to show it [pleasure] to be one of the goods, and no more a good than any other; for every good is more worthy of choice along with another good than taken alone. And so it is by an argument of this kind that Plato proves the good not to be pleasure; he argues that the pleasant life is more desirable with wisdom than without, and that if the mixture is better, pleasure is not the good; for the good cannot become more desirable by the addition of anything to it.

Now it is clear that nothing else, any more than pleasure, can be the good if it is made more desirable by the addition of any of the things that are good in themselves. What, then, is there that satisfies this criterion, which at the same time we can participate in? It is something of this sort that we are looking for. Those who object that, that at which all things aim is not necessarily good are, we may surmise, talking nonsense. For we say that, that which every one thinks really is so; and the man who attacks this belief will hardly have anything more credible to maintain instead. If it is senseless creatures that desire the things in question, there might be something in what they say; but if intelligent creatures do so as well, what sense can there be in this view? But perhaps even in inferior creatures there is some natural good stronger than themselves which aims at their proper good.

Nor does the argument about the contrary of pleasure seem to be correct. They say that if pain is an evil it does not follow that pleasure is a good; for evil is opposed to evil and at the same time both are opposed to the neutral state – which is correct enough but does not apply to the things in question. For if both pleasure and pain belonged to the class of evils they ought both to be objects of aversion, while if they belonged to the class of neutrals neither should be an object of aversion or they should both be equally so; but in fact people evidently avoid the one as evil and choose the other as good; that then must be the nature of the opposition between them.
Subsequently, Epicurus may have adopted and adapted such analyses to develop his own Ethics.

Epicurus’ Ethics
As already mentioned, substantial uncertainty remains about Democritus’ ideas, because all his books were lost or destroyed. Similarly, by the way, almost all of the original books of the Stoics were lost or destroyed. Quite likely much of the destruction was by the subsequent Christian rabble at the urging of Christian demagogues. Most of Epicurus’ books were also lost or destroyed, but as also already mentioned, enough of his work remains for his ideas to be reconstructed fairly well.

In the case of Epicurus’ ethics, though, we know them not only “fairly well” but even “quite well”. For example, they’re available as The Principal Doctrines of Epicurus in Book (or Chapter) X of Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers by Diogenes Laërtius. As mentioned by Erik Anderson at the referenced website, “The authenticity of the Principal Doctrines is also asserted by testimonials found in several works of antiquity.”

And now, I reach a predicament in this post. After such a long trek (which has taken me much longer than I expected!), with the final push being to climb to the summit of Epicurean Ethics, I find that, although not short on oxygen or time, I’m short on space. For interested fellow climbers, I’d recommend that they now go to Epicurus’ Principal Doctrines, to the additional Epicurean ideas contained in The Vatican Sayings, and even to a list of Epicurean quotations, e.g., here. Below, I’ll list just a few Epicurean sayings that I relish.
[Since] pleasure is the first good and natural to us, for this very reason we do not choose every pleasure, but sometimes we pass over many pleasures, when greater discomfort accrues to us as the result of them: and similarly we think many pains better than pleasures, since a greater pleasure comes to us when we have endured pains for a long time. Every pleasure then, because of its natural kinship to us, is good, yet not every pleasure is to be chosen: even as every pain also is an evil, yet not all are always of a nature to be avoided. Yet by a scale of comparison and by the consideration of advantages and disadvantages we must form our judgment on all these matters… When, therefore, we maintain that pleasure is the end, we do not mean the pleasures of profligates and those that consist in sensuality… but freedom from pain in the body and from trouble in the mind… Of all this, the beginning and the greatest good is prudence.

It is impossible to live a pleasant life without living wisely and honorably and justly, and it is impossible to live wisely and honorably and justly without living pleasantly. Whenever any one of these is lacking, when, for instance, the man is not able to live wisely, though he lives honorably and justly, it is impossible for him to live a pleasant life.

Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here. And when it does come, we no longer exist.

The art of living well and the art of dying well are one.

It is folly for a man to pray to the gods for that which he has the power to obtain by himself.

If God listened to the prayers of men, all men would quickly have perished, for they are forever praying for evil against one another.

Of our desires some are natural and necessary, others are natural but not necessary, and others are neither natural nor necessary, but are due to groundless opinion.

I never desired to please the rabble. What pleased them, I did not learn; and what I knew was far removed from their understanding.

No one chooses a thing seeing that it is evil, but being lured by it when it appears good in comparison to a greater evil, he is caught.

Don’t spoil what you have by desiring what you don’t have, but remember that what you now have was once among the things only hoped for.

Question each of your desires: “What will happen to me if that which this desire seeks is achieved and what if it is not?”

Skillful pilots gain their reputation from storms and tempest.

The greater the difficulty, the more the glory in surmounting it.

You don’t develop courage by being happy in your relationships everyday. You develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.

[Interpersonal] justice is a pledge of reciprocal benefit, to prevent one man from harming or being harmed by another.

There is no such thing as [social] justice in the abstract; it is merely a compact between men.

Of all things which wisdom provides to make life entirely happy, much the greatest is the possession of friendship.

It is not so much our friends’ help that helps us, as the confidence of their help.
Succinctly, what I most admire about Epicurus’ ethics is his advice to: 1) Forget about the gods, 2) Forget about death, and 3) Be careful in the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. On the other hand, one of his statements with which I disagree is his:
It is impossible for someone to dispel his fears about the most important matters if he doesn’t know the nature of the universe but still gives some credence to myths. So, without the study of nature, there is no enjoyment of pure pleasure.
In my view, Epicurus thereby gave the rabble far too much credit! They “know” that their god exists; they “know” that they’re worthy of eternal life in paradise; so, the crazy Christians and Muslims fanatics of the world enjoy “pure pleasure” in their claimed “personal relationship” with their imaginary friend in the sky. Consequently, more important than having such people learn about “the nature of the universe” (as advised by Epicurus) is for them to first learn how to think critically. As the Buddha said:
Believe nothing… merely because you have been told it… or because it is traditional, or because you yourselves have imagined it. Do not believe what your teacher tells you merely out of respect for the teacher. But whatsoever, after due examination and analysis, you find to be conducive to the good, the benefit, the welfare of all beings – that doctrine believe and cling to, and take it as your guide.
More succinctly, there’s the advice from the philosopher David Hume (1711–1776), “A wise [person]… proportions his belief to the evidence” and the admonishment from the philosopher Comte de Volney (1757–1820), “To believe without evidence and demonstration is an act of ignorance and folly.

Epicurus’ Riddle & Dilemma
While I’m here, I should at least mention what are called Epicurus’ Riddle (or Paradox) and Epicurus’ Dilemma. The “riddle of Epicurus” is commonly stated as:
Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?
Then is he not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then is he malevolent.
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?
Four points that should be mentioned are the following: 1) the above formulation of the “Problem of Evil” was not by Epicurus but by the philosopher David Hume, yet 2) a similar formulation is given by Lucretius (c.99–55 BCE) in his poem extolling Epicurus’ philosophy entitled “On the Nature of Things”, 3) Epicurus didn’t consider the riddle to be a paradox: he chose the resolution that either there were no gods or, if there were, they were disinterested in humans, and 4) a nice summary of the "epic-cure" was recently posted at static.zooomr.com:


On the other hand, the “Epicurean Dilemma” was an aspect of his worldview that apparently did trouble him, and his chosen resolution not only influenced his ethics but also generated substantial and sustained criticism. The dilemma deals with determinism and with the nature of time. Only recently has a more defensible resolution to the dilemma been developed, in large measure through the studies of Ilya Prigogine, who won the 1977 Nobel Prize for Chemistry “for his work on dissipative structures, complex systems, and irreversibility.” The proposed resolution is complicated; here, therefore, I’ll provide only an introduction; elsewhere (e.g., here and here), I’ve provided additional details.

As described in his 1997 book (partially available at Google books) entitled The End of Certainty, Prigogine introduces the “Epicurus’ Dilemma” as follows:
Is the universe ruled by deterministic laws? What is the nature of time? These questions were formulated by the pre-Socratics at the very start of Western rationality. After more than twenty-five hundred years, they are still with us. However, recent developments in physics and mathematics associated with chaos and instability have opened up different avenues of investigation. We are beginning to see these problems, which deal with the very position of mankind in nature, in a new light, and can now avoid the contradictions of the past.

The Greek philosopher Epicurus was the first to address a fundamental dilemma. As a follower of Democritus, he believed that the world is made of atoms and the void. Moreover, he concluded, atoms fall through the void at the same speed and on parallel paths. How then could they collide? How could novelty associated with combinations of atoms ever appear? For Epicurus, the problems of science, the intelligibility of nature, and human destiny could not be separated. What could be the meaning of freedom in a deterministic world of atoms? As Epicurus wrote to Meneceus,

Our will is autonomous and independent and to it we can attribute praise or disapproval. Thus, in order to keep our freedom, it would have been better to remain attached to the belief in gods rather than being slaves to the fate of the physicists: the former gives us the hope of winning the benevolence of deities through promise and sacrifices; the latter, on the contrary, brings with it an inviolable necessity.

How contemporary this quotation sounds! Again and again, the greatest thinkers in Western tradition, such as Immanuel Kant, Alfred North Whitehead, and Martin Heidegger [Sorry, Ilya (with whom I've argued in person), but surely you're joking to suggest those three as representatives of "the greatest thinkers in Western tradition"!], felt that they had to make a tragic choice between an alienating science or an antiscientific philosophy. They attempted to find some compromise, but none proved satisfactory.

Epicurus thought that he had found a solution to this dilemma, which he termed the clinamen. As expressed by Lucretius,

While the first bodies are being carried downward by their own weight in straight lines through the void, at times quite uncertain and at uncertain places, they deviate slightly from their course, just enough to be defined as having changed direction.

But no mechanism was given for this clinamen. No wonder that it has always been considered a foreign, arbitrary element.
It should be pointed out that, with his clinamen, “Epicurus added an element of chance to provide still more control and moral responsibility than physical determinism could provide.” But I’ll leave it to the reader to investigate details of Prigogine’s proposed resolution to Epicurus’ dilemma. A good summary is available at Wikipedia.

In essence, the proposed resolution is first to recognize that isolated, linear, equilibrium, nondissipative, time-reversible systems, commonly considered in (classical, relativistic, and quantum) physics, rarely if ever exist. In reality, most systems are nonlinear, nonequilibrium, dissipative, and not isolated, and therefore are irreversible (i.e., they possess and display a preferred direction for time). Further, for nonlinear systems, uncertainties in initial conditions (no matter how small the uncertainties) eventually lead to random behavior, including chaos, increasing the system’s entropy, and for which only probabilities of possible outcomes can be predicted. Organization in complex systems can be achieved, however, even out of chaos, if nonisolated systems (such as stardust or a human) are exposed to some energy or other gradient (e.g., if stardust is influenced by a gravitational field or if a human ingests food). Consequently, although isolated systems will tend to equilibrium (a state of maximum randomness, maximum entropy, and for which time has no significance), yet nonisolated systems can decrease their entropy (without violating the second principle of thermodynamics) and evolve. Further, if they possess intelligence, then they can make choices; that is, their behaviors aren’t predetermined or predestined.

More of Epicurus’ Legacy
Undoubtedly Epicurus was brilliant, perhaps influencing more brilliant people than anyone else ever has – despite more than 2,200 years of distortions of his ideas. After his death in 270 BCE, his principles flourished for more than 500 years. The article entitled “Epicurean History” at the website hosted by Vincent Cooke states:
[Epicureanism]… had successfully acquitted itself as one of the leading and best organized of the Greek philosophical schools, providing an vibrant subculture to those who sought something better than the laughable myths and superstitious dread so characteristic of the dominant culture of the Hellenistic kingdoms and the Roman Empire.
The article goes on to describe the attacks on Epicureanism by Stoics and Christians and its rediscovery by humanists in the 14th through 16th centuries. As a result, Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826) could write in his 31 October 1819 letter to William Short:
I… am an Epicurean. I consider the genuine (not the imputed) doctrines of Epicurus as containing everything rational in moral philosophy which Greece and Rome have left us…
I italicized Jefferson’s parenthetic remark, “not the imputed [doctrines of Epicurus]”, to emphasize Jefferson’s acknowledgement of how grotesquely Epicurus’ ideas were distorted.

An indication of how Epicurus’ ideas were distorted by other Greeks is available in his Letter to Menoeceus, to which I’ve added the italics:
When we say, then, that pleasure is the end and aim, we do not mean the pleasures of the prodigal or the pleasures of sensuality, as we are understood to do by some through ignorance, prejudice, or willful misrepresentation. By pleasure we mean the absence of pain in the body and of trouble in the soul. It is not an unbroken succession of drinking-bouts and of revelry, not sexual lust, not the enjoyment of the fish and other delicacies of a luxurious table, which produce a pleasant life; it is sober reasoning, searching out the grounds of every choice and avoidance, and banishing those beliefs through which the greatest tumults take possession of the soul. Of all this, the beginning and the greatest good is wisdom. Therefore wisdom is a more precious thing even than philosophy; from it spring all the other virtues, for it teaches that we cannot live pleasantly without living wisely, honorably, and justly; nor live wisely, honorably, and justly without living pleasantly.
Illustrations of the “willful misrepresentation” of Epicurus’ ideas are the slanderous statements made by some of his contemporary and later Stoics, statements that Diogenes Laërtius records and dismisses with “these people are stark mad.” Perhaps, however, a better expression than “stark mad” would be “scurrilous scum”: spreading false rumors about Epicurus and claiming that forged letters were from him, they set a precedent for the “dirty tricks” practiced by similar scum working for the elections of Presidents Nixon and the two Bushs.

An early illustration of clerical hostility to Epicurean ideas (undoubtedly derived from his rejection of concerns about life-after-death) is the following, copied from the same tremendous Epicurean website created by Vincent Cook:
In the Talmudic Mishnah, one of the authoritative documents of Rabbinical Judaism [conserved orally and then redacted in about 200 CE, by which time the Pharisees had incorporated Zarathustra’s ideas of life-after-death into Judaism], there is a remarkable statement in the Tractate Sanhedrin [Chapter XI] that defines the Jewish religion in relation to Epicureanism [copied from here]:

The following have no share in the world to come: He who says that there is no allusion in the Torah concerning resurrection, and he who says that the Torah was not given by Heaven, and a follower of Epicurus.
One might have thought that it would be up to God to decide who has “a share in the world to come”, but then, the Jewish cleric who wrote the above nonsense was apparently just another quirk in a seemingly endless stream of quacks and dissemblers who claim to speak for the creator of the universe! The following from Alexander the Oracle-Monger by Lucian of Samosata (c. 125–180 CE) is appropriate for all such quacks:
The fellow had no conception of the blessings conferred by that book [the Principal Doctrines by Epicurus] upon its readers, of the peace, tranquility, and independence of mind it produces, of the protection it gives against terrors, phantoms, and marvels, vain hopes and insubordinate desires, of the judgment and candor that it fosters, or of its true purging of the spirit, not with torches and squills and such rubbish, but with right reason, truth, and frankness.
Hostility to (and associated distortion of) Epicurus’ ideas by subsequent Christians (no doubt because his ideas undermined the clerics’ con game) is still evident in Western culture. For example, The New Oxford American Dictionary gives for the definition of ‘Epicurean’:
  • a disciple or student of the Greek philosopher Epicurus.
  • (epicurean) a person devoted to sensual enjoyment, esp. that derived from fine food and drink.
Similarly, Webster’s New World Dictionary of the American Language (Second College Edition) gives for ‘Epicurean’:
  1. of Epicurus or his philosophy
  2. [e] a) fond of luxury and sensuous pleasure, esp. that of eating and drinking, b) suited to or characteristic of an epicure [defined as: a person who enjoys and has a discriminating taste for fine foods and drinks]. Synonym: sensuous.
Admittedly, the goal for dictionaries is to display “common meanings” of words, but both of those common meanings of ‘epicurean’ are terrible distortions of Epicurus’ philosophy. In fact, they distort his philosophy so badly that they are close to the exact antithesis of his ideas – and they are distortions that have been perpetrated for more than 2,200 years by the damnable clerics of Western culture.

An illustration is the “obnoxious bias” (which I mentioned earlier in this post) that appears in Will Durant’s 1939 book The Life of Greece. In his description of the Greek city of Sybarite in what is now Italy, Durant states (p. 185):
Sybarite became a synonym for epicurean. [According to my dictionary, a ‘sybarite’ is “a person who is self-indulgent in their fondness for sensuous luxury.”] All physical labor was performed by slaves or serfs while the citizens, dressed in costly robes, took their ease in luxurious homes and consumed exotic delicacies.
And yes, Durant’s use of ‘epicurean’ is consistent with dictionary definitions, but given that Durant was writing a history of Greece, shouldn’t he (winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Non-Fiction in 1968 and the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1977) have tried to set the record straight? Or did his overt Christianity blind him to his bias?

Simultaneously, the word ‘stoical’ wasn’t distorted, presumably because Christians adopted many of the mystical ideas of the Stoics. Thus, the dictionaries referenced above, respectively, define ‘stoical’ as:
enduring pain and hardship without showing one’s feeling or complaining

showing austere indifference to joy, grief, pleasure, or pain; calm and unflinching under suffering, bad fortune, etc.
There was, of course, more to the Stoic philosophy than the above-two attributions of a Stoic, but because of their philosophy, Stoics did attempt to maintain calm in the face of adversity, and therefore, the above dictionary definitions of ‘stoical’ are fairly accurate – in contrast to the distortions contained in dictionary definitions for ‘epicurean’.

Almost certainly, the clerical, cultural, and resulting dictionary distortions of Epicureanism were a ruse. In reality, the original hostility to Epicureanism from the Stoics was probably derived not because of evaluations of how to gain happiness (because the goals and many of the methodologies were similar for both groups) but because the Epicureans concluded (in direct conflict with the Stoics) that, even if gods were to exist, humans should ignore them. Further, along with rejection of gods (or any world-soul), the Epicureans totally dismissed ideas about life-after-death as being not only meaningless but also a terrible and useless burden on life, undermining happiness. Most likely, therefore, Stoical and clerical hostility to the Epicureans (and subsequent naturalists) was because they dismissed the supernaturalists’ worldview as being, in a word, silly. Such dismissal undermined both the Stoics’ confidence in their worldview and what’s most important to all clerics: that they should be able to continue their parasitic existence, claiming to be representatives of the supernatural while leeching off the producers of the world.

And what blatant, witless hypocrites were and are the religious critics of Epicureanism! What audacity to criticize Epicurus for advocating that pleasures be pursued, when the essence of Plato’s and the Stoics’ mysticism, Christianity, Islam, etc. was and is to pursue “eternal pleasure”! If the truth be sought, their real complaint would undoubtedly be found in Epicurus’ advocating the pursuit of thoughtful pleasures (disregarding data-less ideas about eternal life) – which then was and is a challenge to all religious delusions.

Nonetheless, some criticisms of Epicurus are appropriate. Although he didn’t follow Aristotle’s mistaken attempt to identify “the function of man”, yet, similar to Aristotle, he failed to investigate the meaning of ‘happiness’ (or of ‘pleasure’ and ‘pain’). Actually, though, Aristotle did see some of it. Thus, in Section 3 of Chapter 2 of his book On the Soul, Aristotle wrote:
It follows that first of all we must treat of nutrition and reproduction, for the nutritive soul is found along with all the others and is the most primitive and widely distributed power of soul, being indeed that one in virtue of which all are said to have life. The acts in which it manifests itself are reproduction and the use of food – reproduction, I say, because for any living thing that has reached its normal development and which is unmutilated, and whose mode of generation is not spontaneous, the most natural act is the production of another like itself, an animal producing an animal, a plant a plant, in order that, as far as its nature allows, it may partake in the eternal and divine. That [or this] is the goal towards which all [living] things strive, that for the sake of which they do whatsoever their nature renders possible.
In the quotation immediately above, I added the brackets and the italics to emphasize that Aristotle clearly saw that the prime goal of all life is (in modern terminology) to promote the survival of its genetic code, “for the sake of which they do whatsoever their nature renders possible.”

If Aristotle had developed that idea further, perhaps he would have seen not only that ‘happiness’ arises from living in agreement with “the function of man” but also that the prime function of all humans was not “to live a life of reason” but to promote the survival of their genetic codes. Further, he or Epicurus might have then seen what Spinoza (1632–77) saw in his Ethics (Part III), in the “Proof” of his Proposition LVII:
Pleasure and pain… are states or passions whereby every man’s power or endeavor to persist in his being is increased or diminished, helped or hindered.
If to Spinoza’s idea is added analyses of human needs, such as those identified by Maslow (1908–70), then improvements upon Aristotle’s idea of happiness and Epicurus’ ideas on pleasure and pain become available.

Another valid criticism of Epicurus arises from his failure to engage in politics. His decision was understandable, given the turmoil in Greek politics following the death of Alexander the Great. Yet, if he had developed his ideas of ‘pleasure’ and ‘pain’ further (to see that they are emotions related to successes and failures in pursuit of one’s goals), then he probably would have seen the value to himself and those he considered to be his “family” of attempting to achieve the goal of developing a supportive political structure.

Subsequent Epicureans, however, did see such advantages. For example, as stated in the Wikipedia article on Epicurus:
Elements of Epicurean philosophy have resonated and resurfaced in various diverse thinkers and movements throughout Western intellectual history… His emphasis minimizing harm and maximizing happiness in his formulation of the Ethic of Reciprocity was later picked up by the democratic thinkers of the French Revolution, and others, like John Locke, who wrote that people had a right to “life, liberty, and property.” To Locke, one’s own body was part of their property, and thus one’s right to property would theoretically guarantee safety for their persons, as well as their possessions… This triad, as well as the egalitarianism of Epicurus, was carried forward into the American freedom movement and Declaration of Independence, by the American founding father, Thomas Jefferson, as “all men are created equal” and endowed with certain “inalienable rights such as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
And yet, in spite of the rancor between Epicureans and Stoics, there were actually two enduring similarities between the two schools. One of these similarities was individualism and was a sign of the times in which the founders of their schools lived (i.e., Epicurus and Zeno the Stoic). The other similarity, which can be described either as boldness or pigheadedness (!), continues to be a sign of our times.

How the individualism promoted by both the Epicureans and the Stoics was a sign (or better, “a product”) of the times follows because, with the death of Alexander the Great in 323 BCE, the old, secure, beneficial (even “bountiful”) political order of Athens began to collapse, requiring people to “look to their own resources” for their security and for what pleasures (or happiness) they could find. The resulting individualism (which, of course, already had famous precedents in Greece, all the way back to Achilles, Hector, Homer, Hesiod, Thales, Pythagoras, etc.) is probably the most important legacy that ancient Greece gave to the Western World. Even today, the individualism promoted by most ancient Greek philosophers (including both the Epicureans and the Stoics) is what most distinguishes the West from the collectivism promoted by religious Jews, Muslims, and others (of course including what’s left of communism).

As for the commonality of ‘boldness’ or ‘pigheadedness’ (the choice depending on one’s perspective!), the same continues to this day: people adopt a worldview (e.g., similar to Democritus and Epicurus, that everything is natural, or similar to Pythagoras and Plato, that something “supernatural” created the universe and is in control), and from their assumed worldview, people decide how to live their lives. Thus, for all the rancor that developed between the Epicureans and the Stoics, they pursued a similar goal and in a similar manner: they both sought to identify the ingredients for a good life and, following Socrates and Aristotle, they both attempted to achieve that identification via reason. The major difference between the two was derived from their different worldviews, just as it is today between scientific humanists and theists (better described, I think, as “unscientific antihumans”).

Thus, Epicureans held the views either that there are no gods or, if there were, that they were uninvolved (and disinterested) in human affairs. The Stoics, in contrast, held the views either that the gods were involved and everywhere (“immanent”) or that God was, in fact, Nature, and since people were a part of nature, that each person (especially each person’s soul) was part of “the divine”. As a result, with such different worldviews, the Stoics decided that “the good life” was to align themselves with the desires of “the divine” – and mystic philosophers and clerics were (and still are) always willing, for a price, to tell people how to align themselves with “the divine”, whereas the Epicureans decided that “the good life” was to be happy (and philosophers such as Democritus, Eudoxus, Epicurus, et al.) struggled to try to define the ingredients for happiness.

Today, scientific humanists (but not “unscientific antihumans”) are more secure in their epistemological choices than were Democritus and Epicurus. Thereby, especially with the past few centuries developments and applications of the scientific method, our naturalistic worldview is more secure. Meanwhile, mystics to this day continue to “think” that knowledge of the universe can be gained by “wishful thinking”, from whatever makes them feel good, from their dreams and hallucinations, and similar silliness.

Nonetheless, it should be admitted that both scientists and mystics have boldly or pigheadedly climbed out on similar limbs: neither can be certain that their claimed knowledge is correct. Any scientist, however, will admit to his or her precarious claims to knowledge. In contrast, the religionists of the world still invariably claim that they are in possession of “the truth”, apparently not knowing what “truth” even means. As a result of their different epistemologies, scientists continue to grow in their search for knowledge, while religious people stagnate, clinging fast to their claims to “the truth”. As Feynman said:
Looking back at the worst times, it always seems that they were times in which there were people who believed with absolute faith and absolute dogmatism in something. And they were so serious in this matter that they insisted that the rest of the world agree with them. And then they would do things that were directly inconsistent with their own beliefs in order to maintain that what they said was true…

[In contrast,] I have approximate answers and possible beliefs in different degrees of certainty about different things, but I’m not absolutely sure of anything, and of many things I don’t know anything about… Some people say, “How can you live without knowing?” I don’t know what they mean. I always live without knowing. That is easy. How you get to know is what I want to know…
Bertrand Russell summarized it all, succinctly and well:
The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt.
www.zenofzero.net