A recent analysis has concluded that ‘British public opinion has got so used to things being bad/chaotic it’s hard to imagine anything else.’ But what ‘things’? Perhaps electioneering politics (always chaotic), but more likely the myriad social, legal and medical services the state claims to provide. No such services (let alone ‘rights’) were available in the ancient world. Family apart, you were on your own. Simple survival was the aim.
The farmer poet Hesiod (c. 680 BC) came up with his advice on the issue in an attack on his lazy, disputatious brother Perses: a man can have time for arguments when he has a year’s worth of grain laid up in his barns. Straight-dealing men do not suffer famine or blight: they work hard and become rich in flocks. Store up a little regularly and often; do not put things off till tomorrow. Real application yields results. Make friends with good neighbours and they will be good to you; ignore your enemies.
Ancient literature is full of such homespun advice on the various ways of surviving. Stobaeus records 147 crisp sayings emerging from Apollo’s oracle at Delphi, many on the vital skill of keeping friends (‘fulfil a favour’, ‘restrain the tongue’, ‘pursue harmony’, ‘speak sincerely’). Others preached self-awareness. ‘Know yourself’, i.e. be aware of what you can and cannot do, is still popular (though the Greek comic poet Menander suggested it was far more useful knowing other people); so too is ‘Nothing in excess’, one aspect of self-knowledge. Many made political observations: ‘Wrongdoing can be avoided only if those who are not wronged feel the same indignation as those who are’ (Solon); ‘Men’s differences with each other have nothing to do with politics but with personal advantage’ (Lysias).
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in