In history, few philosophers have come with workable, solid advice about dealing with setbacks. Socrates (470-399 BC), Plato (427-347 BC) and Aristotle (384-322 BC) had given little thought to this matter, concentrating their efforts on logic and epistemology rather than on human psychology.
Seneca was the first philosopher in history to come up with a complete prescription for dealing with setbacks in all sorts of circumstances. He took the insights developed by Zeno of Citium (334-262 BC) and Cleanthes (330-230 BC) in prior centuries, and turned them into a ready-made formula.
The formula appears, in bits and pieces, in the essays and in the Letters to Lucilius written by Seneca. I am outlining here the principles, so that today’s reader can access them right away without having to go through hundreds of pages.
Seneca’s formula consists of three steps: First, making a fair assessment of our problems. Second, addressing the most acute problems with priority. Third, looking for ways to turn those problems into stepping stones.
Seneca: “reflecting on death in order to live fully”
The first step is the most difficult because many people tend to blow their problems out of proportion. I must include myself sometimes in this category, although experience has taught me how to apply Seneca’s insights more consistently.
In the 41st Letter to Lucilius, Seneca provides an extremely effective recommendation in this area: If we want to assess our problems accurately, we should put them in perspective. If we are terrified of falling ill or going bankrupt, we should remind ourselves of our mortality.
Reading Seneca had led me to consider the strategy of reflecting daily on death in order to live fully. Compared to death, all problems seem of little importance, whether they are financial, emotional, social, or medical.
As long as we are alive, we have possibilities of improving our situation. It is easy to regain balance, if we train ourselves to consider death as the alternative. The consequence of doing so is that we will devote more energy to taking practical action, and much less to complaints and lamentations.
Seneca: “someone willing to point to our mistakes”
Seneca’s second step is to identify, amongst all our pressing problems, those that are the most severe. By “severity,” I mean “lethality,” not discomfort or embarrassment. We should ignore our natural tendency to focus on pain as the principal criterion. It is painful to suffer from indigestion, but probably less lethal than a heart condition that is not giving us any pain at this moment.
As a general rule, humans tend to be more objective when they look at somebody else’s problems than when they look at their own. We may prove capable of identifying the most lethal threat for a friend, while we remain blind and deaf to the risks that we are facing ourselves.
In his 111th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca advised drawing the counsel of a good friend. His definition of “good friend” is however quite demanding. Seneca meant “someone willing to point to our mistakes and propose improvements.”
If we can draw this kind of advice, that would be ideal, but on many occasions, the threats might require immediate action, allowing us no time for consultations. For this reason, it’s good to build one’s self-reliance and learn to keep a cool head during crisis situations.
Seneca had great appreciation for friendship, but favoured self-reliance over all. From the 111th Letter to Lucilius, I have concluded that a wise man does not rely on friends for securing his peace of mind.
In particular when dealing with setbacks, we need to remain self-sufficient and self-confident, irrespective of the support or benevolence that we can draw from our environment.
Seneca during his eight-year exile in Corsica
Seneca’s third step is finding ways to turn our problems into a stepping stone for improvement. As a general rule, Seneca viewed setbacks as tests of philosophical strength. From his 17th Letter to Lucilius, I draw the conclusion that we should regard setbacks as opportunities for increasing our resilience.
Most historians regard this step as purely emotional, not as an encouragement to take action. I could not disagree more. It’s crucial that, for understanding this aspect, we look at Seneca’s life, not only at Seneca’s writings. I give more credence to his actions than to his writings alone.
When Seneca was forced to relocate to the island of Corsica, he was already forty-five years old. At the beginning, he took it very badly that he had left his possessions, friends and family behind, but little by little, he seized the opportunities offered by the new environment.
During his eight-year exile in Corsica, Seneca identified lots of ways to turn his exile into a stepping stone. He embraced a wholesome diet and improved his health. He took daily walks and increased his physical and mental resilience. He employed his time productively and stepped up his literary production.
Seneca’s formula for dealing with setbacks has been used in all periods of history with remarkable success. It does not offer any guarantee and might not apply to certain situations, but all in all, it draws the best from human nature.
Seneca’s insights and the life of Richard Arkwright
The life of Richard Arkwright (1732-1792) supplies a bright and compelling illustration of Seneca’s prescription. His ascent from poverty to wealth constitutes an example to imitate by all individuals wishing to improve their station in life.
Arkwright built a successful career by going from setback to setback, looking for ways to turn them into stepping stones, and not falling prey to discouragement. I regard him as the best eighteenth-century example of practical Stoicism.
He first failed as a barber, but bounced back as a wigmaker that tended to a local clientele. He failed again to make a good living, and started to travel across England to sell his wigs. His ambitions failed again because customers would purchase only once from him, having little use for several wigs.
Nonetheless, Arkwright kept his eyes wide open during his travels and identified new opportunities. He realized that textile works have become profitable investments, but could not grow due to their complex production process.
Although Arkwright lacked any training as an engineer, he inquired about textile-making processes and wondered how they could be improved. Then he started to tinker into his old barbershop until he came up with a spinning machine powered by a water mill.
Eventually, he made drawings, filed for a patent and began to look for investors. He attracted investors by demonstrating his spinning machine with a little model, similar to a toy spinning machine.
As inventor and promoter, Arkwright kept for himself fifty per cent of the shares in the company, and sold the remaining fifty per cent to investors. It took him two years to raise all the stock capital necessary to build Cromford Mill, the first textile factory using a spinning machine.
Arkwright then faced problems that he hadn’t expected. The spinning machine was too delicate and needed constant repairs. In addition, the factory was too isolated and he could not draw a sufficient number of workers.
Within a year, Arkwright had turned those serious problems into new stepping stones. He built houses for workers and then hired complete families, willing to work in his factories. While the husband would carry out heavy tasks, the wife would take care of maintenance and repairs, enabling the family to earn a larger income.
Seneca: a balanced, steady motivation
Seneca would have admired the remarkable resilience that Richard Arkwright displayed at every step. He conducted his affairs like a true Stoic, philosophically taking his failures as a barber, wig-maker and salesman as annoying but not lethal.
Arkwright demonstrated a remarkable talent for prioritising his problems and concentrating his efforts on the most severe. I can only praise his years of patient tinkering in his workshop until he came up with a working model of a spinning machine.
His travels across England had prompted him to identify the textile industry as the one with the most potential, and the one badly restrained by an old-fashioned production process. Thus, Arkwright made the decision to focus his efforts on solving a problem that was calling for an urgent solution.
Seneca’s prescription for dealing with setbacks can help us open our eyes to new opportunities. We should imitate the high alertness and flexibility of Richard Arkwright, who would not close the door to any alternatives.
For instance, his decision to focus on cotton instead of wool for his Cromford Mill was far from self-evident. While a large part of the British textile economy relied on wool, Arkwright’s spinning machine could not handle wool effectively. Instead of insisting on wool, Arkwright was flexible enough to switch to cotton.
I regard Seneca’s formula for dealing with setbacks as a key element of Stoic thought. Individuals like Richard Arkwright constitute precious examples of Stoicism in action. They mix a balanced, steady motivation with a problem-solving drive that is worth emulating.
If you are interested in putting rational ideas into practice in all kinds of situations, I recommend my book “The Philosophy of Builders.”
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