Don’t Worry About Politics

Reducing distress takes place closer to home

Alexander at Issus by Albrecht Altdorfer. This is what was going on in the political world during Epicurus’ life. Nothing to worry about.

Epicurus is sometimes summarized as advocating for the avoidance of political engagement. This is roughly true, but requires clarification before it can be properly defended. What exactly are his relevant recommendations? Some things are clear: for instance, he thinks the life of political ambition, of the competitive pursuit of power, fame, or wealth, is misguided and counterproductive to happiness. However, modern citizens could justifiably pose some questions. Does this still apply to a low-danger contemporary political office, such as a small-town city council member? Or how about forms of political engagement that have very little to do with personal “ambition,” such as supporting a candidate’s campaign, advocating for a cause, participating in protests, posting online, or simply following the news? Although Epicurus does not specifically address each of these discrete modern phenomena, I think we can still derive clear guidance from his broader advice—advice that significantly constrains, but does not eliminate, these kinds of activities.

In this article, I’ll go through a few key, well-documented Epicurean positions and then apply them to the relevant forms of modern political engagement. Let’s start with the one he does address explicitly: political ambition.

Ambition Is Bad

On this topic, we have a few pieces of evidence that are quite clear:

Nor will [the wise man] be involved in politics, as Epicurus says in the first book of On Lives. (Diogenes Laertius X.119)

They must free themselves from the prison of everyday affairs and political life.¹ (Vatican Saying 58)

Some caution is clearly in order here, however. What does it mean to “be involved in politics” (πολιτεύω—which some translate as something like “participate in civic life”) or to be in “the prison of political life”? Based on other writings, it seems to me most likely that Epicurus was referring primarily to the pursuit of a position of political power, an enterprise that he would warn against as counterproductive to security and tranquility of mind.

A man who has understood the limits of life knows that the things that remove the suffering of want and make his whole life complete are easy to obtain, so there is no need for the things involving competition. (Principal Doctrine 21)

This warning against competing for power, fame, and wealth is well attested, both in Epicurus’ own writings (see Principal Doctrines 7 and 14 as well, for example) and in the larger tradition that consistently attributes a maxim of “live unnoticed” to the Epicureans. According to the school’s teachings, power, fame, and wealth do not contribute effectively to the essentials of life: there are far easier and simpler ways to obtain food, shelter, and security about the future.

Worse, these things can easily become counterproductive. All three can attract envy and competition, which reduce our security. Or we can develop insatiable desires for more power, more money, or more fame, losing sight of the ostensible benefits for our own comfort and security, and thereby living continually in a state of painfully unfulfilled (and unfulfillable) desire. Those who achieve great political power often lead lives of great instability. Those who achieve great political power often make their lives (and the world) worse off as they get caught up in their own advancement or ideological ambitions.

“Don’t be politically ambitious,” however, is not necessarily the same as “avoid political engagement,” as most everyday people would imagine it today. Would Epicurus discourage joining a campaign for a candidate, political party, or policy proposal? Would he have political positions? Would he keep up with political news? For these kinds of activity, we need to zoom out a little to broader teachings.

Philosophical Opinions Are Political Opinions

Let’s move next to a seemingly foundational qualification for political activity: political opinions. Do Epicureans have any interest in how the state should be run? I think they do. Epicurus himself wrote extensively about some of the fundamental political questions: Principal Doctrines 33 and 36–38 outline his theory of justice, while Diogenes Laertius tells us that Epicurus wrote multiple books on justice and on kingship. We also have an extended account of the Epicurean theory of justice, contained in Porphyry’s Of Abstinence, which seems to be drawn primarily from Hermarchus, Epicurus’ immediate successor as head of the Garden.

The basic theory of the school argues that laws are created as agreements between people that aim to maximize each participant’s pleasure (which they also refer to as “advantage,” or which more modern philosophers might refer to as “utility”). Epicureanism, despite its anti-political reputation, therefore anticipates both modern social contract theory and Utilitarianism in significant ways. Importantly, the Epicureans argue that justice cannot be defined apart from hedonistic outcomes and so the process of evaluating laws cannot be settled by appeal to any free-standing moral intuitions, but only through prudential calculation, the evaluation of what is most likely to maximize pleasure and happiness.

Those who, considering what has been framed in law, say that the good and just derives from the individual beliefs of each person, are deeply foolish. For this case can be no different than other matters of identifying what is advantageous, as we do in matters of health or countless other subjects. (Of Abstinence 1.12)

So: we should not mistake Epicureans’ famous reluctance to engage in politics as signaling an absolute disinterest in political topics, or an unnuanced insistence that political matters have no impact on human well-being. Questions about crime and punishment, public safety, or improving economic security are therefore all entirely valid topics for Epicurean philosophers. We think it is good to understand how different policies came about and be clear-eyed about whether those policies continue to contribute to the collective well-being.

But if one establishes a law and it does not turn out to be in accord with what is useful in our dealings with one another, this no longer possesses the nature of justice. (PD 37)

The Epicurean tension with modern, politically-active types therefore does not stem simply from ignorance, or from intellectual apathy regarding the ways in which government activity can impact our lives. We may give less attention to such topics than other schools, but if asked to consider the merits of a policy proposal, for instance, we will happily apply the same process of hedonistic calculus we apply to our individual lives.

A tribe, city, or country is an assemblage of egoistic individuals. Laws that benefit the country benefit the individual. When considering the question of “ideally, how should the laws be formed?” there is really very little daylight between Epicureanism and more modern Utilitarians. Where we differ is in our judgment regarding the prudential importance and individual advisability of actively trying to change existing laws.

The Benefits of Political Action Are Smaller Than People Think

The baseline prudential calculation when it comes to existing legal structures is clear: you usually want to follow the law, because breaking it leads to punishment and the fear of punishment.

Injustice is not bad in itself, but because of the fear and apprehension that one will not escape notice by those appointed to punish wrongdoing. (PD 34)

The net benefit of attempts to change laws or officeholders is much less certain. In contrast to political enthusiasts, Epicurus would say that the benefits of their hoped-for outcomes are much smaller than they think, while the typical costs of their engagement are steeper and less well-warranted than they imagine. We’ll consider the purported benefits of political change first.

The underlying Epicurean perspective is that changes in political conditions are generally far less important to one’s happiness than the exercise of individual prudence and clear-thinking. At its root, this insistence arises from Epicurean first principles: the necessary desires are few, we already have more than we need, and our happiness is within our own individual control. The subjects of modern political dispute are often simply unimportant.

For instance, the back-to-first-principles Epicurean perspective on wealth and poverty is radically different than that of most contemporary political discourse. Consider a classic maxim:

Poverty, measured by what nature requires, is great wealth. And wealth, if it grows without knowledge of limits, is great poverty. (VS 25)

Epicurus means “what nature requires” pretty literally. He believes that “poverty”—the state of someone who has food, water, and adequate protection from the elements, but no luxuries of any kind—is entirely sufficient to meet the requirements of human happiness. The wealthy, on the other hand, if they lose sight of the true necessities, can quickly become “impoverished” insofar as they feel a constant state of unsatisfied desire. Most impassioned protest about income inequality, therefore, consists in a fundamentally misplaced envy. This isn’t to say that an Epicurean wouldn’t conclude, for instance, that a progressive income tax is a reasonable policy for a state to have, but he wouldn’t get angry about the existence of rich people—their wealth isn’t helping them at all, while those of modest income have all they need.

Simply put, Epicureans believe we don’t need much in the way of externals to secure happiness. This is even more true in the modern developed world, where the low-hanging fruit of material abundance and basic security have been achieved. The hoped-for objects of further reform are—just like most things people wish for—fundamentally unnecessary. Many Epicurean dictums that are often taken as purely individualistic pieces of advice can therefore be applied equally well to political desires.

We must not spoil the things we have through desire for things we don’t have. Rather, we must use our reason to remind ourselves that these also were things we once wished for. (VS 35)

A person buys a new pair of shoes. She is happy for a little bit, then desires another new pair. This is not productive of stable, lasting happiness. Political observers set their heart on a new health insurance subsidy or tax cut, get it, and then similarly move on to their next desire. Most non-philosophers simply overrate the importance of external factors for happiness.

To be clear, true malnutrition or living in a dangerous war zone would indeed be bad—Epicurus would heartily recommend you change your personal situation. But he thought the average Athenian resident of his time—women and slaves included—had all that was required for a happy life. If your living standards, personal security, and political protections exceed those of a woman or slave in 4^th century BCE Athens, then Epicurus would say that basically all you need for happiness is a clear understanding of how the world works and the skillful exercise of rational calculation. Your happiness is not significantly dependent on external circumstances.

Chance intrudes little in the life of the wise man, for reasoned calculation has, does, and will govern the greatest and most important things for the duration of his life. (PD 16)

Sure, I’d like a better functioning healthcare system, but I’m grateful that medicine and insurance exist at all. Sure, it would be nice if the government could continue to fund old-age pensions and medical coverage at current or expanded levels, but if some cuts are needed—well, the very existence of these programs is a huge bonus in historical perspective. The list could go on forever. If Epicurus looked at the modern United States, he would clearly say that our average material, political, and security standards are already far more than sufficient for human happiness. Willfully postponing happiness until the achievement of some future societal standard would be deeply counterproductive to the actual goal—which is happiness! Most political debate is mere squabbling over inessentials.

The Costs of Political Engagement Are Higher Than People Realize

Within an egoistic framework, then, the likely benefits of a political change for any one individual are very small, especially when you try to measure the proportional slice of any such benefit attributable to your individual contribution to its realization. Of course, some people deny that egoistic hedonism is the right lens for looking at the world at all. In response to the Epicurean contention that it is natural and good for us to pursue our own happiness, a frequent objection would be something along these lines:

What about other people? Some innocent people are victims of our wars, live in daily fear of deportation, or struggle to pay their bills as inflation or high gas prices outstrip their earnings. Maybe it makes your life easier to just ignore these things, but you should be willing to accept some minor discomfort when other people are suffering. The collective suffering of the many outweighs your individual inconvenience.

The short and blunt answer is no: we do not believe that any individual has an obligation to cause herself mental suffering for the sake of others. We hold it to be utterly commonsensical for people to pursue their own well-being. This will often include awareness of the well-being of those in your immediate circles—family, friends, neighbors—but trying to expand this circle to the whole world is a recipe for inefficacy at improving results and impossibility of achieving satisfactory success.² It prevents your happiness while not doing much good.

I’ve written at more length about the justification for Epicurean egoism, but I think that in many scenarios, such self-interest would be widely accepted as obvious and natural rather than morally deficient. Imagine a woman living in a remote Bhutanese mountain village. Epicureans would say that it is very reasonable for her to try to promote the interests of her friends and family—if those closest to us are suffering, our own lives will be negatively affected, while cultivating a circle of mutual support will improve our own circumstances and security. But it would be ridiculous for an American to walk into that village and tell her that she should postpone her happiness as long as the United States is fighting a war in Iran or has $6 per gallon gas prices.

As a matter of dispassionate analysis, my individual ability to affect these outcomes is hardly greater than that of the Bhutanese villager. I can vote, sure. And I don’t see any reason why Epicurus would forbid that. But there is no dramatic difference in our respective potential for enacting political change: the reasonableness of the remote villager in prioritizing her own well-being over that of distant strangers remains intact for someone in California or Florida. All that is different is the perceived salience of political issues.

And increasing that salience in our lives is itself a harm we should recognize. We have no obligation to suffer, I said above. “Make no mistake—we are suffering,” I believe Epicurus would add. The prominence of politics in the mental landscape of many contemporary Americans is excessive and counterproductive to happiness. The demands of political enthusiasts may seem modest enough: they often aren’t asking for large amounts of time or money, but simply emotional sympathy, an avowal of shared distress, a refusal to be satisfied with the current state of the world. But to an Epicurean, the willful embrace of distress and the refusal of contentment are far greater costs than money. Such mindsets are antithetical to the whole goal of philosophy.

And for the unconverted altruists out there, note that this is a largely self-imposed harm, yes, but it is a widespread form of distress. The potential damage to happiness applies universally: political engagement is very often harmful to the peace of mind of the politically-engaged. Such persons are more likely to be distressed about the state of the world, sometimes extending to a pessimism that darkens their perception of everything. They are more inclined to tribal thinking that supports causes because of who else supports them, rather than accurately assessing ideas on their merits. They are more inclined to partisan hostility, which encourages peace-disrupting anger while inviting reciprocal hostility and thinning the ranks of one’s personal social allies. Reducing these tendencies would help other people.

The evils of tribalism and hostility were well-recognized by Epicurus. He encourages us to avoid making enemies for the sake of our practical security:

The man who manages the insecurity of the outside world in the best way does three things. The forces he can render friendly to himself, he does. If this is not possible, he makes them at least not hostile. And if even that is not possible, he avoids contact, and expels from his life that for which it is best to do so. (PD 39)

He asserts that personal animosity and vitriol are never merited or worthwhile:

No one chooses the bad because it is bad. Instead men are caught by it, lured in by how it seems good in comparison with some greater evil. (VS 16)

Envy no one. The good do not deserve ill-will, and as for the bad, the more they prosper, the more harm they do to themselves. (VS 53)

And he views tribalism and conformity to popular opinion with a great deal of skepticism:

When I discuss nature, I prefer to speak with an oracle’s frankness, sharing things that benefit all men, even if no one understands me, rather than to conform to popular opinion and so enjoy the mob’s ready praise. (VS 29)

I think, then, that we can add some further principles that constrain the circumstances in which political engagement would be advisable. In addition to not overrating the importance of actually unimportant things, we should not, 1) feel a principled obligation to undertake mental suffering on behalf of others, or 2) accidentally participate in or advocate for tranquility-destroying practices, such as the common correlates to political engagement of making unnecessary enemies, viewing people as willfully evil, conceiving envy as righteousness, or letting popular opinions distort our own thinking.

Conclusion: Egoism Leads to the Best Altruistic Outcomes

According to Epicureans, our goal as intrinsically egoistic animals is physical security and mental tranquility for ourselves, liberating us into lives of easily available pleasure. Our goal as advising philosophers is security and tranquility for everyone. In most parts of the world—especially in rich, developed nations—the Epicurean diagnosis is that these are overwhelmingly available to individuals as things stand, under current political conditions. We want more people to be happy! We simply think that those who pin their hopes on political change are going about this goal in a highly ineffective way. Let me underline that: we downplay political concerns in order to help people be happier.

In other words: although we believe our individual motivations to be necessarily egoistic, that does not mean that we think our advice will lead to worse outcomes for the world at large. Are you concerned about the suffering of others? Then consider it a good if their suffering is reduced, however it comes about—if philosophy is a more efficacious way of achieving that end than relying on the difficult and uncertain path of political change, then you should encourage them to employ that means. Might a proposed change in public policy lead to better outcomes? Sure, and you are welcome to vote for it, spread the word, and advocate for that change, as long as you do so in a way that is not on balance counterproductive to happiness. Productive conversations with friends, non-conflict-inducing nudges with acquaintances, even a financial donation to a campaign, if you have extra money and calculate that the money could actually do some good—these activities are not intrinsically forbidden.

You can both endorse Epicurean philosophy and recognize the ways in which good policy and good leaders can bring real benefits. But what Epicurean philosophy does entail is this: that you neither overestimate the importance of those changes or the ease of their achievement, nor underestimate the costs of erroneous thinking, tribal passions, and spreading hostility. As in all things, we encourage an attitude of sober comparison: What will help? What will harm? Do anger or distress make the lives of those nearest you happier than would a glow of calm benevolence? As the master says:

An untroubled person causes disturbance neither to himself nor to others. (VS 79)

Many things are beyond our control, but we have the power to choose whether we add or subtract anxiety from those lives we touch each day.

1. This sentence without context has some unclear elements. First, we don’t know who “they” are—Geert Roskam speculates that perhaps the sentence was an extract from a letter, in which case the advice might have been intended for specific persons in specific circumstances, rather than general advice. There is also disagreement about whether ἐγκύκλια refers to traditional education—the ἐγκύκλια παιδεία—or everyday affairs more broadly.

2. On inefficacy: Even the patron saint of altruistic Utilitarianism, John Stuart Mill, recognized that, in practice, basically all normal people who are not acting from a position of great public responsibility will naturally and rightly concern themselves overwhelmingly with their immediate sphere of influence. “The multiplication of happiness is, according to the utilitarian ethics, the object of virtue: the occasions on which any person (except one in a thousand) has it in his power to do this on an extended scale, in other words to be a public benefactor, are but exceptional; and on these occasions alone is he called on to consider public utility” (Utilitarianism, Chapter 2). I think Epicurus would agree that a king, for example, should consider public utility. More pervasive political discourse has just given people the illusory sensation of having been entrusted with positions of great personal influence.