Duty, Evolution, Neuroscience, Attic Tragedy, and Epicurean Philosophy.
An Analysis of a Father’s Death Sentence Against His Own Son - Torquatus and the Roman Recasting of Epicurean Philosophy.
Titus Manlius Torquatus, as portrayed in Cicero’s De Finibus, appears as a defender of Epicurean philosophy. Although many of his arguments echo core Epicurean principles, his rhetorical strategy and moral framework reveal a distinctly Roman reinterpretation - shaped by the ethos of duty, authority, and military discipline.
This portrayal seems to serve Cicero’s rhetorical intentions more than it reflects the true ethics of Epicurus. It is highly likely that Cicero deliberately chose Torquatus - a figure deeply rooted in Roman tradition and familial severity - to act as a “representative” of Epicurean philosophy, aiming to assimilate it into the Roman mos maiorum, even at the cost of distorting the foundational values of the Garden.
In doing so, Cicero appears to tame or even neutralize the radical ethical freedom of the Garden: its rejection of blind duty, its elevation of friendship and pleasure, and its refusal to exalt any form of violence as virtue.
Ciceros’ most cunning maneuver: he places Epicurean language in the mouth of a man who defends an ancestor that executed his own son - thus turning the philosophy of the Garden into rhetorical clothing for acts that rupture natural unity, friendship, and the evolutionary bonds of care that have allowed the human species to survive against the forces of Nature.
But of course, what could Cicero possibly know - about physics and the application of Epicurean epistemology, which lay the very foundations of clinamen vitae: the gentle deviation from necessity, toward friendship, pleasure, and the dignity of life - when he himself admires Plato and his imaginary notions that this world was crafted by a divine artisan, rather than emerging from natural motion and free deviation of evolution?
I imagine Epicurus gently shaking his head, with both understanding and sorrow, saying: “Poor Cicero - he didn’t know, he didn’t ask, and he had no idea what was coming for him in the end, for clinging to Plato’s fantasies.” Not even the divine artisan could save him from the brutal actions of the Triumvirate and their ruthless struggle for power. His head and hands, once devoted to eloquence and law, were nailed to the speaker’s platform - mute testimony to the failure of imagined ideals against the swerve of reality.
Thus, the execution of Torquatus’ son becomes not a tale of Roman virtue, but a tragic rupture - one that invites us to reexamine the foundations of ethics, nature, and care through the Epicurean Canon.
Duty Versus the Natural Instinct to Protect
History is filled with moments where blind duty collides with the innate human drive for protection. One of the most tragic examples is the act of Titus Manlius Imperiosus Torquatus, who sentenced his own son to death for violating military orders.
The young soldier, disobeying his father’s strict command, engaged in single combat, defeated his opponent, and claimed the spolia opima - the highest military prize for individual valor. But bravery was not enough to shield him from the brutal enforcement of Roman law.
Can such an act be called a virtue that leads to pleasure - or is it merely extreme discipline cloaked in pain and fear?
The Epicurean Torquatus, in Cicero’s dialogue, attempts to present this incident as evidence of a dynamic Epicurean stance toward life’s demands. Yet, from a philosophical Epicurean standpoint, this act cannot be justified. It represents not a model of virtue, but a tragic violation of nature’s ethical order- a moment from which we derive lessons about what must be avoided.
In Greek mythology, Agamemnon’s sacrifice of his daughter Iphigenia follows the same reasoning: that collective necessity overrides the parent-child bond. But Attic tragedy does not glorify such actions; rather, it casts them into theater as moral warning, raising questions about whether so-called “duty” can ever trump nature, empathy, and prudence.
This study explores the act of the Roman Torquatus’ ancestor through the lenses of evolution, neuroscience, psychology, and authentic Epicurean philosophy to reveal how societies can impose values that violate the biological and philosophical imperative to preserve life, love, and the bonds of kinship.
Evolution and the Biology of Offspring Protection
The preservation of life and the care of offspring are fundamental evolutionary traits in all higher mammals. These mechanisms are essential for species survival, as parents safeguard the development and protection of the next generation.
Human society has embedded this principle into the institution of the family. From an evolutionary standpoint, the parental sacrifice of one’s own child offers no biological advantage, it disrupts genetic continuity and undermines the long-term viability of the family, which constitutes the primary unit of social structure.
Torquatus’ decision stands in direct conflict with this biological imperative. It illustrates how certain cultural frameworks can override natural priorities and subordinate life to institutional demands. In Roman society, military discipline and loyalty to the state were often valued more highly than the instinctual drive to preserve kin.
Psychology of Obedience and Social Pressure
Obedience to authority has been extensively examined in psychology. Milgram’s landmark experiment revealed that individuals are capable of following extreme directives- even when these contradict their conscience - as long as the command originates from a figure of recognized authority. Where psychology reveals the mechanism, philosophy offers the antidote.
But what constitutes “authority” in psychological and social terms? Across cultures and epochs, authority has worn many masks:
A priest who embodies the divine and wields religious faith as a tool of power.
A ruler who enforces ideology and command through the legitimacy of the state.
A spiritual leader who cultivates doctrinal devotion and renders questioning unthinkable.
A scientist or academic who invokes empirical knowledge as an instrument of unquestioned compliance.
Milgram’s findings demonstrated that the more legitimate or exalted the perceived authority, the more likely people are to comply- even against their own moral compass. This mechanism of obedience is central to social psychology and deeply tied to the human tendency to conform to authoritarian systems, often without scrutinizing the ethical implications of their actions.
Epicurean philosophy, as a Greek worldview, rejects dogmatism and coercive authority. Instead, it advocates dialogue, reasoned consensus, and the pursuit of natural harmony that is pleasurable eudaemonia.
Rome, with its rigid disciplinary structure, actively exploited this psychological mechanism- transforming law and power into tools of absolute authority. This transformation lies at the heart of the act committed by the ancestor of Epicurean Torquatus.
In Roman society, military and political leaders occupied the apex of power, their authority regarded as incontestable. The cultural elevation of discipline and obedience enabled actions that violated natural human ethics - including the execution of one’s own child.
When juxtaposed with the Greek perspective, a profound contrast emerges: In Greek tragedy, the sacrifice of a child is portrayed not as noble, but as a tragic moral conflict - a dilemma that invites philosophical reflection. In Rome, by contrast, discipline and duty overshadowed emotion, turning even the most intimate human bond into a casualty of civic ideology - a casualty not of war, but of the war within the very nature of law itself.
Principal Doctrine 31: “The justice which arises from nature is a pledge of mutual advantage to restrain men from harming one another and save them from being harmed.”
Epicurus does not equate what is socially imposed with what is naturally advantageous. On the contrary, he urges us to act according to our nature - as living beings who seek pleasure and safety. Justice, he says clearly, is only just when it serves mutual non-harm; when it protects friendship, kinship, and freedom from fear.
When law becomes an instrument of pain, it is no longer just. When it leads a father to kill his own son - no, that is not prudence; it is Roman discipline disguised as virtue and blind duty. Behold, then, the blind Stoic in all his “glory”. 😛
The Mother as a Tragic Figure: The Double Dissolution of the Family
The tragic figure of the mother of the executed son suffers a double loss - not only because she has lost her child, but also because she has, in essence, lost her husband as an emotional and supportive presence in their relationship. Epicurean philosophy values human relationships as a source of true pleasure and emotional balance. The execution of the son is not merely an act of violence; it is also the destruction of the marital bond. Here, the mother becomes the unseen tragic figure, as her suffering is not only emotional but deeply existential and social.
The act committed by the ancestor of the Epicurean Torquatus serves as an example of how social imperatives can drive a person against their nature and against the fundamental principles of Epicurean thought.
The execution of the son by his father was not merely an act of military discipline; it was a demonstration of power - a message to all that obedience is absolute, and that questioning the rules is punished in the most extreme way. When a father reaches the point of executing his own son, he does not merely eliminate a person - he imposes fear and makes it clear how far he is willing to go to maintain his authority.
This mentality is directly linked to Creon in Sophocles’ Antigone. Creon, like the ancestor of Torquatus, insists on enforcing the law with absolute rigidity, without considering natural morality and human prudence. He believes that the strict application of rules is the only guarantee for maintaining order in the city.
However, as Sophocles’ tragedy demonstrates, inflexibility and obsession with power lead to destruction. Creon is not the hypsipolis that is, he is not the high-spirited leader distinguished by prudence and adaptability. A leader who is not conciliatory and lacks foresight is led to hubris and downfall.
Sophocles would not have seen the ancestor of the Epicurean Torquatus as a model of virtue, but rather as an example to be avoided - illustrating how blind faith in authority and laws without a humanitarian dimension can become the source of tragedy.
Epicurean philosophy rejects this approach to power. Epicurus taught that laws and rules should only be followed if they promote friendship, social cohesion, and pleasurable eudaimonia. A society based on fear rather than well-being is incompatible with Epicurean thought.
Greek Education vs. Roman Discipline
Here, the fundamental difference between Greeks and Romans becomes evident. The former regarded Attic Tragedy as the highest form of education and culture - a space for reflection, where deep moral dilemmas and the consequences of human choices were examined.
The latter had the Colosseum and gladiators - tools of fear and reinforcement of a rigid military mentality.
Tragedy taught the Greeks what must be avoided, while the Roman arena taught them how resilient they must be to pain and to the spectacle of human life being extinguished.
Greece honored education, thought, and dialogue - the capacity to confront the tragic and, through prudence, to avoid it.
Tragedy shows us where we must not go. Roman mentality reveals how far a person can go when ruling through fear.
The tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides functioned as ancient psychoanalytic mechanisms. In Attic Tragedy, we see the darkest aspects of human existence brought to the surface, allowing the audience to experience them emotionally, recognize them, and ultimately achieve catharsis.
Aristotle, in his Poetics, describes catharsis as a process in which the spectator, through tragedy, experiences intense emotions (fear, sorrow, anger) and ultimately becomes liberated from them through the rational understanding of the drama. This process is not far from modern psychotherapy.
Epicurus’ philosophy has a strong affinity with existential therapy. He taught that human beings must rid themselves of the fear of death and gods, avoid unnecessary pain, and live in pleasurable eudaimonia, choosing what is natural and beneficial for life. Central to his thinking was friendship, which serves as a fundamental pillar for joy and mental serenity. Instead of imposing a strict moral code, he offered practical solutions for daily psychosomatic balance, based on the study of nature and harmony with it.
While the Greeks analyzed human passions and refined them through tragedy and philosophy, the Romans suppressed them through discipline, coercion, and fear. In the Roman world, psychological analysis was not part of cultural thought; obedience and discipline were considered superior to personal self-awareness and social cooperation.
We could say that the Greeks were the first psychologists and psychoanalysts of humanity -not because they stifled passions, but because they brought them to the surface, studied them, and balanced them, leading to a deeper understanding of human nature.
Modern Neuroscience, Attic Tragedy, and Αristotles’ Catharsis
Attic Tragedy strongly activates the limbic system, which is responsible for emotions, particularly fear, sorrow, and empathy. When we witness Oedipus discovering the truth, the amygdala triggers a powerful emotional response. The brain recognizes the tragic nature of the event and engages the empathy system, making us feel the hero’s pain. This reaction is not merely aesthetic; it plays a crucial role in learning and emotional development.
Aristotle’s theory of catharsis in Poetics describes the process of psychological purification that the spectator undergoes through tragedy. Modern neuroscience confirms that this process has a strong biological foundation. The limbic system, particularly the amygdala, triggers intense emotional reactions (fear, sorrow, empathy). The prefrontal cortex processes the lesson behind the drama, transforming emotional intensity into rational understanding. As the drama reaches its climax, the spectator experiences psychological tension. At the stage of recognition and resolution, the brain releases serotonin and dopamine, leading to relief and emotional balance.
This process resembles modern psychotherapeutic techniques, where the expression of intense emotions leads to internal catharsis and cognitive restructuring. Thus, tragedy is not merely a form of art but a complex mechanism of emotional and cognitive processing that deeply influences human psychology.
Final Reflection: From Personhood to Power - and Back Again
Rome’s embrace of Stoicism was not merely a cultural preference but a strategic move - an ideology of empire, well-suited to reinforce discipline, obedience, and the machinery of control. A system that glorified duty, suppressed emotion, and taught submission to fate became the moral architecture of imperial authority.
Thus, Rome cast its die at the Rubicon - abandoning Greek flexibility, the pursuit of eudaimonia, and the centrality of the person. Where Epicurus placed the individual in harmony with Nature, Rome subordinated them to the state.
Stoicism, unlike epicurean Philosophy, did not seek personal flourishing; it sought political order, regardless of the emotional and social cost. The Roman citizen was no longer a self-aware person but a compliant cog in a mechanism - a number, a function, a role.
Rome did not choose freedom of thought, nor human joy. It chose enforcement, obedience, and fear. And that marked the point of irreversible departure.
History shows: no empire built on suppression, no system that denies the personhood of the human being, can endure.
Greece taught the world prudence, friendship, reason, and the freedom to reflect. Rome enforced dominance and dissolved the individual into the collective will.
And so we ask, which model endured?
Because, it is not simply about the past. It is about now. Blind obedience remains alive - in institutions, in politics, in systems that treat humans as units rather than persons.
If a society forgets that people are conscious beings with dignity, desires, and instead molds them into instruments of control, it collapses not with noise - but with silence.
Epicurean philosophy offers a lasting response: To live freely, prudently, and joyfully, in harmony with nature and with others. To honor the person - not the empire.
Postscript: The Most Beautiful Sight
Epicurean philosophy does not conclude in critique - it culminates in care. And through care, it turns us not toward power, but toward one another.
As Epicurus himself reminds us in saying 61:
“Most beautiful too is the sight of those near and dear to us, when our original kinship makes us of one mind; for such sight is great incitement to this end.”
This is not merely an aesthetic observation. It is a philosophical stance. For no authority can imitate the joy of concord among kin. And no so-called “virtue” can justify the severing of that bond.
The Garden remembers. As Epicurus declares in his own will:
“Make offerings on the anniversaries of my father, my mother, my brothers, and myself… and hold gatherings for those who philosophized with me, such as Metrodorus and Polyaenus…”
What does Epicurus’ Garden remember?
It remembers parents. It remembers siblings. It remembers servants who philosophized beside him. It remembers companions /friends - not as subordinates, but as persons.
For memory, in Epicurean thought, is not tradition - it is an act of philosophical gratitude.
And in that most beautiful sight - not of friends alone, but of kin who remain united in harmony - the Garden does not merely breathe… it remembers. It remembers the bond. It remembers the pleasant tenderness that came before every virtue. It remembers so that, through the lens of Greek-Epicurean thought, we may never forget what it means to be human!