In history, the concept of self-reliance developed in parallel to the concept of individuality. In the absence of autonomy, we cannot speak of self-reliance. In the absence of personal assets, there is no room for deploying them effectively.
The Stoics, Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, and Seneca, were the first philosophers to underline the importance of individual serenity and self-reliance. Plato (427-347 BC) and Aristotle (384-322 BC) had not given much thought to this matter because they regarded the city (“polis”) as a necessity.
In contrast to Plato and Aristotle, Seneca considered wealth, success, prosperity, social harmony, friendship and popularity as optional. Those factors can enrich our experience, Seneca noted, but do not determine our happiness.
In the 91st Letter to Lucilius, Seneca explained the crucial importance of self-reliance. If we make our happiness depend on other people’s actions, argued Seneca, disappointments are inevitable. Self-reliance consists of taking our happiness in our own hands, so that we grow invulnerable to disruptions.
Even if justice and fairness generally prevail, we are bound to be deceived or short-changed in some cases. Why? Because, some people will make innocent mistakes, or take advantage of the situation, or simply refuse to play according to the rules.
Like no other philosopher, Seneca had grasped that a certain measure of social friction and unfairness are unavoidable. It is in our interest to accept this fact and protect us accordingly. All plans for self-reliance will fail if we don’t internalize why they are necessary and urgent.
In the 91st Letter to Lucilius, Seneca refers to the fortuitous destruction of Lyon by fire as an event that put the self-reliance of its inhabitants to the test. Lyon’s devastation occurred when Seneca was already sixty-seven years old and spending most of his time in his villa near Naples.
I find Seneca’s account of the disaster fascinating because it conveys crucial philosophical messages. His recommendations about self-reliance and preparedness possess perennial value. I am going to summarise his advice and the underlying logic.
Seneca: The impossibility to remove all risks
Even under the most favourable circumstances, we will still have to face some risks. If a project falls under our control one hundred per cent, we can do a great deal to minimise the downside. In contrast, when projects depend on actions from many people, risks tend to increase exponentially.
Lyon was a typical Roman settlement, which means that the walls and roofs would rest on wooden beams filled with wattle or thatched. Stones would be used only for building the temple and the theatre, and the homes of wealthy merchants.
Even by taking the best precautions, one could not cut down the fire risk to zero. A house might be built with stones, but the surrounding houses would still be made of wood.
The streets were so narrow that it would not help to leave some distance between our house and neighbouring houses. Other home owners might be careful with their fireplaces and oil lamps, but we could not expect the same level of care from the tenants of overcrowded apartment buildings.
Nobody knows what started the Lyon fire precisely, but it is not hard to guess. With so many oil lamps and open fireplaces, it only takes a gust of wind to blow a spark into a thatched roof in the middle of the summer, and the fire would spread fast.
Lyon had hundreds of stationed Roman soldiers, but no fire brigade. When buildings started to burn, the soldiers formed a human chain to the river, passing buckets of water, but it was to no avail. The fire was spreading too quickly.
Even the most careful home owner would have been unable to protect his property. The fire generated confusion and panic. Residents put their possessions on carts and attempted to flee, but the streets were blocked. The disaster proved apocalyptic. One hundred thousand people lost their homes.
Seneca: Assets can be wiped out overnight
We should consider the possibility of having our assets destroyed by accident or malfeasance. Before the fire occurred, few Lyon inhabitants had given serious thought to the risk. They had never expected to see their home and business wiped out overnight.
Seneca points out that history offers plenty of examples that illustrate the risk, but the picture is too uncomfortable. We tend to ignore danger signals when everybody else is ignoring them.
By refusing to look into the matter, we postpone necessary actions. Self-reliance requires effort and expenditures. It might also prompt us to change our business or profession, write off our investments, and relocate to a safer location. None of those measures is pleasant to take, but they could save our lives.
Seneca pointed out that the Lyon residents must have heard of the demise of Troy, the earthquakes in Asia Minor, and the fall of Carthage. If they had, it never crossed their mind that Lyon might be hit by a similar disaster.
Seneca gives psychological support, but offers no practical advice for preserving one’s assets. Stoicism might lead victims to attribute the fire to sheer bad luck. It might help them accept their losses and move on with their lives, but will it increase their self-reliance?
I commend Seneca’s efforts to sensitise us about risks, but a proper protection plan must go beyond psychological support. If we are extraordinarily unlucky, we may lose all our property, family members and friends, but the point of self-reliance is to prevent disasters from occurring.
Seneca encourages us to “think of everything bad that could happen and figure out our future response.” I regard his advice as insufficient. True self-reliance is not about training people not to cry when they suffer a loss, but about removing the risk of such loss taking place in the first place.
Seneca: The balance between serenity and action
Facing the future effectively (which I would consider equivalent to self-reliance) requires a proper balance between practical and mental preparation. We can find this principle in several Letters to Lucilius.
Seneca places more weight on the metal aspects and plays down the impact of external factors. Yet, I cannot endorse his approach because it would turn us into sitting ducks.
Seneca’s idea of preparation for the future categorizes external elements as somewhat irrelevant for achieving peace of mind. A rational soul, he argues, does not need wealth and health to remain happy.
To drive his point home, Seneca borrows a metaphor from Chrysippus (279-206 BC). He compares the human mind to a merchant ship carrying various goods across the sea. It does not matter if the ship is carrying olive oil, metals or textiles, explains Seneca. Its hull must remain waterproof at all times to prevent it from sinking.
Philosophy is the waterproof hull that keeps us from sinking when things turn for the worse. It does not matter which losses we endure and how much adversity we face. If our philosophy is correct, we can keep our mind peaceful in all circumstances.
Seneca also borrows a metaphor from Cleanthes (330-230 BC). He compared individuals to dogs chained to the cart of destiny. If we accept our fate, we can walk along the cart; but if we resist, we will be dragged and suffer unnecessarily.
I contest Seneca’s total surrender to destiny as a workable strategy. By borrowing deterministic views from Cleanthes and Chrysippus, he undermines self-reliance instead of increasing it. By comparing humans to ships and dogs, he overlooks a key human characteristic: the ability to think and plan in advance.
Nonetheless, if we take Seneca’s works as a whole, they call for resolute action more often than Cleanthes and Chrysippus had done. In order to cultivate self-reliance, we need to strike a fair balance between tangible action and mental preparation.
Seneca: Self-reliance is cultivated slowly
Self-reliance requires a long-term commitment of time, energy and purpose. Its benefits are enormous, but they need to be cultivated slowly. I would compare the development process of self-reliance to that of Seneca’s literary skills. It took him decades to evolve from writing bad plays to philosophical masterpieces such as “On the Happy Life.”
Christine de Pizan (1364-1430) constitutes a great example of how to apply Seneca’s recipe for self-reliance. She was born in Venice, but moved to France as a child when her father got a job as physician to the French royalty.
Pizan took every opportunity to learn and read books in Latin and French. When she turned sixteen, she married a court official named Etienne Castel. They had three children and led a smooth family life, but it all came abruptly to an end when Castel died in 1390.
At twenty-six, Pizan became a widow with three young children. The death of her husband had deprived the family of the only source of income, and prompted Pizan to consider her options.
Pizan was familiar with Seneca’s recommendations for self-reliance, but she needed to do more than finding psychological reassurance. Seneca’s philosophy helped Pizan avoid panic and despair in the first place, but that was not enough.
Seneca’s ideas and Christine de Pizan
More often than not, self-reliance rests on assets and skills that have been developed across time. In the case of Pizan, the assets consisted of her literary skills and her personal contacts. The former, she had acquired herself through years of study; and the latter had grown naturally as a result of her husband’s employment at the French court.
Pizan took the initiative to turn those assets into an earning string that enabled her to stay afloat. She approached Isabeau of Bavaria, the Queen of France, and proposed to her to write a book celebrating the virtues of women.
The Queen agreed to sponsor Pizan, and she started to write right away. As the book progressed, Pizan would read it out to the Queen and gather her feedback for corrections. The result of Pizan’s efforts was “The Book of the City of Ladies.”
The book is neither entertaining nor a literary masterpiece, but it got Pizan started on a career as a sponsored writer. She soon obtained another commission from the Queen. This time, she wrote “The Treasure of the City of Ladies,” a handbook for noble women.
Pizan managed to land one commission after another, not only from the Queen of France, but also from other aristocrats in the French court. For instance, the Duke of Berry sponsored “The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry,” a treatise on military matters, and the Duke of Burgundy sponsored laudatory poetry.
Pizan implemented masterfully Seneca’s advice of striking a fair balance between tangible actions and mental preparation. I cannot blame Pizan for seizing the chance to become a court intellectual because, in view of the circumstances, she had very limited choices.
Let’s learn a lesson that can spare us plenty of trouble when things turn for the worse. Self-reliance should be drawn from existing assets and skills, those we have cultivated for years. In crisis situations, one should do what one knows best instead of improvising.
If you are interested in putting rational ideas into practice in all kinds of situations, I recommend my book “Against all odds: How to achieve great victories in desperate times.”
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