Forgiveness has become the universal recipe for betrayal, at least theoretically. Moral leaders tell their flock to forget what they have suffered, purify their hearts, and move on with their lives.
In the early Roman Empire, Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) was the most notable philosopher to preach forgiveness as a recipe for dealing with betrayal. His recommendations are close to those formulated by Christianity.
Actually, I should categorize Seneca’s recommendations as “how to cope with betrayal,” not “how to deal with betrayal.” I consider the verb “coping” more suitable for defining Seneca’s ideas because they aim solely at consoling the victim.
Seneca fails to identify the root cause for the problem. He is exhorting readers to forget the injustices they have suffered, so that they are not consumed by rage and bitterness.
I cannot endorse Seneca’s recommendations in this respect because they are deeply irrational. How does Seneca expect to solve problems if he does not address them? If the traitor is not charged and prosecuted, will he not perpetrate his crime again and again?
Seneca and Nero’s repeated betrayals
Consider for instance the case of Emperor Nero (37-68 AD) and his multiple treasons, abuses and human rights violations. I am going to enumerate just a few, to give readers an idea of the extent of his crimes.
Nero’s most despicable betrayal is the one he perpetrated against general Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo (7-67 AD), who had earned an impeccable reputation for his engineering talents and for his courage.
Corbulo had led Roman troops into successful campaigns in Germany and Armenia. During those wars, he had ordered the construction of water canals and military forts, and left troops behind to prevent those provinces from rebelling.
When Corbulo returned to Rome, people had expected Nero to award him the highest honours. Why did Nero instead? He ordered Corbulo to commit suicide.
Instead of rewarding merit and dedication, Nero opted for destroying them. He feared Corbulo’s strong popular support, which might have incited a revolt against Nero’s incompetence and corruption.
Two years earlier, Nero had given orders to poison his step-brother Britannicus, who many regarded as the rightful heir to the Roman imperial throne.
Nero’s betrayals and cruelty knew no limit. Why? Because he was paranoid. He believed that everybody was plotting to dethrone him and execute him.
I consider it particularly monstrous that Nero ordered his soldiers to execute his own mother, Agrippina the Younger. He had grown apart from her and feared that she might encourage a revolt.
Nero did not care that Agrippina had played a crucial role in securing him the Roman throne. His paranoia was so extreme that he was constantly having people executed for imaginary offences.
Nero also betrayed and killed his first wife, Octavia. After sending her into exile, he raised false charges of extra-marital sex and had her executed.
He then married Poppaea Sabina, but she died shortly after in mysterious circumstances. Some historians say that Nero kicked her while she was pregnant and that she passed away as a consequence of his violence.
In the year 65 AD, a group of senators led by Piso planned a revolt against Nero, but his guards managed to suppress it. All participants and auxiliaries in the plot were then put to death. I wonder if their plan would have changed the course of history, and protected many innocent victims.
Eventually, Nero faced another revolt three years later. This time, the participants had devised a waterproof plan. Nero was forced to flee and then he committed suicide. That was the end of his history of betrayals and assassinations.
Seneca’s serenity in the face of betrayal
Seneca witnessed Nero’s betrayals at close range, but did he take action to stop them? Not at all. During those years, Seneca kept writing about forgiveness, resignation and serenity.
His 89th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca affirms that philosophy should be practical, but he did not mean actionable. He meant practical only in the psychological sense. His only concern was the tranquillity of his soul, not the realities of the world.
Seneca never grasped that philosophy is worthless without action in the real world. That’s why Aristotle (384-322 BC) had devoted so much effort to connecting logic and ethics.
Aristotle had carefully defined virtue in his “Nicomachean Ethics” and “Eudemian Ethics,” illustrating his insights with a vast panoply of examples.
Unfortunately, Seneca had paid little attention to Aristotle’s definitions. In his dialogue “On the shortness of life,” Seneca is criticising Aristotle for asking whether each virtue is different, or whether they are all manifestations of the same principle.
The importance of this question escaped Seneca, and that’s why he couldn’t get himself to condemn betrayal as profoundly evil. Aristotle had grasped that all virtues depend on rationality and that they call for consistent action.
In the absence of intellectual rigour, Seneca concentrated all his efforts on psychology and the search for serenity. I find it unfortunate that he devoted more time to sophistry than to real self-improvement.
Seneca: the anecdote of Zeno’s ceramic cup
In his 76th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca praises Zeno of Citium, a Stoic philosopher from the 3rd century BC, for his tolerance to discomfort and imperfections.
Seneca recounts the anecdote of Zeno dropping a ceramic cup, which broke into pieces. Instead of deploring the loss, the reaction from Zeno was perfectly calm. He rationalized his loss by saying that “all things are meant to break apart.”
Zeno’s reaction is proportionate to the loss of a ceramic cup, but Seneca unduly generalized the principle. If Zeno had kept his serenity in that case, should we not do the same when we are facing betrayal?
Aristotle would have immediately spelled out the difference between losing a ceramic cup and suffering betrayal. Those are widely diverging situations, but not in the eyes of Seneca.
Seneca argues in his dialogue “On Clemence” that we will grow unhappy if we demand justice. If we become obsessed with remedying injustices, we will not enjoy life to the utmost.
I must disagree with Seneca in this matter. I cannot second his admiration for Julius Canus because he had reacted calmly to the betrayal and death sentence pronounced by Caligula.
Seneca mentioned Julius Canus in the key argument of his dialogue “On the tranquillity of the mind.” The attitude that he was praising in Julius Canus is the same as Zeno’s nonchalant comment when he dropped his ceramic cup.
The question of betrayal is too serious to regard indifference and acceptance as valid answers. Aristotle would have rejected Seneca’s arguments as spurious and advised him to study logic, so that he could grasp the concepts of virtue and justice.
In all cases, I am in favour of peaceful, creative solutions. We should devote our efforts to finding them. Aristotle himself opted for a peaceful solution when he saw his life in danger in Athens. He entrusted his school, the Lyceum, to Theophrastus, and went into exile. If he had remained passive, the outcome might have been extremely negative. Let us embrace peacefulness and creativity for dealing with negative situations, even if the solutions require us to change our lifestyle.
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.”