Robert Schwentke’s 2023 film Seneca – On the Creation of Earthquakes paints a dark picture of a politically impotent philosopher who, despite his resigned submission, cynically insists that without his guidance, ‘Nero would have been a worse princeps’. This film speaks to an enduring popular interest in the defining paradox of Seneca’s life: his simultaneous adherence to Stoic principles and apparent complicity with tyranny. Martina Russo’s learned and intricate book Flattery in Seneca the Younger: Theory and Practice provides a welcome scholarly perspective on this endlessly fascinating topic.

R.’s introduction rejects the commonplace assumption that Seneca was a hypocrite, ‘a flatterer and a two-faced philosopher’ (1). Instead, drawing upon doublespeak theory, which posits that the language of those living under autocracy often holds both licit and illicit meanings, R. argues that ‘Seneca’s flattery should not be read merely as a form of corruption but as essentially an attempt at political resistance’ (4).

The first three chapters centre on Seneca’s Consolatio ad Polybium. Ch. 1 argues that Seneca flatters both the emperor Claudius and Polybius himself in order to secure an end to his own exile in Corsica. Such a simple description of R.’s macro-level thesis does not capture the complex micro-level arguments that comprise it: for instance, R. claims that, by emphasising the many ways in which Polybius’ response to grief is being scrutinised, Seneca both flatters Polybius and underlines the climate of surveillance in which he lives (21). Ch. 2 treats Seneca’s elevation of Polybius as a scholar. Central to the chapter is Seneca’s apparent omission of the fabulist Phaedrus in his claim that Polybius will be the first to render Aesop’s fables in Latin. For R., this omission achieves three ends: first, it flatters Polybius; second, it suggests that Polybius should not, like Phaedrus, write fables with subversive messages; and third, by snubbing the freedman Phaedrus, it critiques the increasingly prominent status of freedmen under the Principate. Finally, ch. 3 focuses on the speech of Claudius, ventriloquised by Seneca at the end of this treatise. R. argues that this speech simultaneously flatters Claudius and subtly criticises him — for instance, by both praising and emphasising the savagery of Mark Antony, to whom Claudius compares himself (77). This chapter rightly points out that flattery and hidden criticism can coexist, without either element undermining the other.

Ch. 4 moves on to De Ira and its numerous exempla of individuals forced to express themselves cautiously in the face of tyranny. According to R., Seneca presents this behaviour as admirable — even in cases when he appears to condemn it. Ch. 5 treats De Tranquillitate Animi, arguing first that this treatise frames simplicitas, or frankness, as the opposite of pretence. Though theoretically virtuous, this trait also emerges as dangerous in practice under the Principate. Then, R. turns to this treatise’s depiction of Iulius Canus, who thanked the emperor Caligula for ordering his execution. R. argues that this is not a case of flattery; rather, Canus’ acceptance of his fate makes him ‘a non-philosophical version of the self-sufficient sapiens’ (119–20). In ch. 6, R. tackles Seneca’s flattery of Nero in De Clementia. R. argues that the flattery that pervades this treatise exists alongside a strain of admonition, whereby Seneca subtly suggests that clemency is within Nero’s own self-interest.

The book’s final two chapters treat Seneca’s explicit theories of flattery, as expressed in the Epistles (ch. 7) and the Natural Questions (ch. 8). Both texts, R. argues, frame flattery as morally treacherous — a form of inauthentic role-play that obscures the truth — while also engaging in flattery. R.’s decision to begin her book with texts in which Seneca arguably practises flattery, and then to move on to the theory at the end, is highly effective, enabling her to avoid oversimplifying Seneca’s flattering practices by reading them through the lens of his theory.

This book admirably situates Seneca’s philosophy within the political constraints that shaped his life. For instance, in ch. 1, R. demonstrates how Seneca appeals to the consolatory topos of shared human suffering in order to establish an affinity between himself and Polybius, priming Polybius to advocate for Seneca’s recall to Rome (27). Throughout, R. deftly shows that Senecan philosophy is constantly entangled in, and competing with, the material demands of the political sphere.

After reading this book, I remain curious about the nature of ‘political resistance’, presented in the introduction as the ultimate function of flattery in Seneca’s texts. This book identifies what appear to me to be three major uses of Senecan flattery: (1) flattery allows subjects to survive (e.g. 102) and secure favours for themselves (e.g. 34–5) under autocracy; (2) flattery steers those in power towards acting more ethically (e.g. ch. 6), and (3) flattery provides cover for subtle critique of those in power (e.g. 183–4). To me, (1) cannot constitute political resistance, (2) comprises political action but probably not resistance, and (3) might be political resistance, though this, too, is contested in contemporary scholarship (see e.g. Gunderson, Art of Complicity (2021), 13). A more explicit theorisation of ‘politics’ and/or ‘resistance’ would have provided a clearer focus to this work, anchoring the manifold functions that Senecan flattery fulfils. Still, I applaud R. for doing justice to the countless forms taken and ends served by Senecan flattery. Handling both Seneca’s philosophy and his socio-historical milieu with precision and intelligence, this book will be of interest to Senecan scholars and Roman cultural historians alike.