Philosophy Post #11: What Is Epicureanism? (And Why It’s Not What You Think) - Mesagxo pro Prof. Jeffrey Sachs

 What Is Epicureanism? (And Why It’s Not What You Think)

Let’s clear something up: Epicureanism is not about fine wine and expensive cheese.

The word “Epicurean” has been mangled by time. Today, it suggests someone who lives for gourmet food, luxury vacations, and sensual pleasure. But the original philosophy—founded by Epicurus around 300 BCE—is something much more radical and, frankly, more relevant than ever.

At its heart, Epicureanism is a philosophy of freedom through simplicity.
It says: don’t chase more—chase peace.
Don’t be rich, be unbothered.

Epicurus argued that what we truly want is ataraxia—a state of calm, serene happiness, free from anxiety and pain. And the fastest way to get there? Eliminate unnecessary desires. Most of the things we chase—fame, status, wealth—aren’t just distractions. They’re traps. They create new needs, new fears, new dependencies. And suddenly, we’re no longer free.

So what do we need?

According to Epicurus:

• Friendship

• Freedom (self-sufficiency)

• Philosophical reflection

• A little food and shelter, sure—but not much.

He ran a kind of proto-commune just outside Athens, where people lived simply, talked about ideas, grew their own food, and avoided politics like the plague. (Honestly? Not a bad life plan.)

Now here’s the kicker: Epicureanism isn’t hedonism in the “party hard” sense. It’s hedonism in the “don’t give yourself a hangover” sense.

Pleasure, yes—but wisely chosen. Long-term. Sustainable. Gentle.

You want wine? Fine. But only if it doesn't make tomorrow worse.
You want fame? Probably not—too much anxiety.
You want peace and joy that lasts? Then subtract more than you add.

It’s about smart pleasure, not loud pleasure.

In a world that rewards overstimulation and burnout, Epicureanism feels almost punk. It says: walk away from the noise. Your happiness might be hiding in a quiet room, not a crowded hall.

That said, Epicureanism is not without its limitations. And that is a subject for a future post.

Economic Philosophy Post #1: Institutions, Economists, and the Real Work of Building Societies

 Economic Philosophy Post #1: Institutions, Economists, and the Real Work of Building Societies

A response to Atanu Dey's reflections on Friedman and Buchanan

Atanu Dey’s recent piece in Deeshaa on the economists Milton Friedman and James Buchanan is a blog post on two influential thinkers in the 20th-century liberal economic tradition. It’s also a window into a certain ideological stance—one that places a great deal of faith in the power of institutions, markets, and rules that are meant to withstand human fallibility. (Markets, especially markets!) There is, to be sure, much to admire in such a focus on part of Friedman and Buchanan. But we must be wary of its blind spots.

Milton Friedman, in particular, is a polarizing figure. While his advocacy for school vouchers, floating exchange rates, and drug liberalization certainly had a contrarian flair, they also revealed an often narrow understanding of human wellbeing. Friedman frequently reduced questions of justice and morality to matters of market efficiency and voluntary choice, sidelining structural inequities and the role of power. His notion of freedom was one tied almost exclusively to the absence of state intervention—not necessarily to the flourishing of individuals or communities. And yet, that concept of freedom has deeply shaped public policy debates, often with long-term consequences that are still playing out. 

At this juncture, we might ask: is it time for a new economic philosophy—one rooted not merely in efficiency, but in wellbeing? Should economic policy be executed with a view to "maximize shareholder value" or "maximize happiness, overall"? That is the question of economic philosophy that Friedman and his acolytes failed to full address.

Buchanan, as Atanu notes, offers something more nuanced—especially in his distinction between the economics of voluntary exchange and the politics of coercion. His insistence that we design institutions that are robust to human flaws is well taken. But even Buchanan’s constitutional economics sometimes leaned too heavily on idealized notions of “contract” and not enough on history, culture, or the messiness of lived experience. Institutions are not created in a vacuum, nor are they always chosen in a deliberative marketplace of ideas. They emerge from struggle, compromise, and often, deep inequalities.

One danger in overly admiring economists like Friedman and Buchanan is that it can obscure the real-world failures of the systems they championed. Deregulated markets did not, as promised, always lead to widespread prosperity. Vouchers didn’t solve educational inequity. Floating exchange rates came with their own volatilities. And in societies marked by entrenched disadvantage, the rhetoric of individual choice often becomes a smokescreen for inaction. And what happens when authoritarian leaders come to power and exploit economic systems for personal or political gain? (Yes, I am referring to Trump here.) Friedman and his acolytes never addressed that. 

So yes, let’s talk about institutions. Let’s talk about rules that can endure in a world of fallible humans. But let’s also ask who those institutions serve, who gets to write the rules, and who bears the brunt when those systems fail. Economics needs not just logic and elegance, but empathy, context, and a deep engagement with social reality.

To quote Frank Knight, as Atanu does: "The game of being a society can rarely just dissolve." True. But it can unravel in slow, silent ways—when inequality festers, when trust erodes, and when too many people feel the rules were written without them in mind.

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And to bring things to a proper conclusion, some thoughts in Esperanto.

Kion mi neniam komprenos estas kiel Atanu alvenis al la konkludo, ke Trump estis la pli bona kandidato en la elekto de 2024.  Kia terura ekonomikisto Atanu estas.

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