On blogging, readers and crowds

The little corner of the internet I tend to frequent has seen a bit of discussion recently about why people should write and share. Someone opining that worrying about technical setup and design is a waste of time, because it might prove suboptimal in marketing terms compared to turnkey solutions, sparked the discussion this time around.

More recently, Henrik — entirely independent of the aforementioned discussion — also chimed in on the same topic:

There are perfectly valid reasons for why you would write something even if you don’t expect it to become a top result on Google.

I agree! Of course, this discussion is not a 2025 phenomenon. My friend Yaidel and I discussed the topic in private correspondence through email last year, and he wrote about it in public a year back:

And yes, writing is by itself a way to shed clarity into a self-discovery process in the first place, and I have had this discussion with several friends in the world, but in many occasions the approval by those who read is also necessary. My point of view is that if you write for yourself, you would never publish it. No one publishes what they write in their journal. To this point I have been able to identify, then, three reasons why people publish in personal blogs, after the aforementioned exchanges with other locals:

(You should click through and read the full post to see the reasons Yaidel found.)

If you've been keeping up with my reading log you may have noticed that I recently started reading a fairly old book. Letters from a Stoic¹ is the first entry in my log where the property "Year published" is not denoted by four digits. Published around the year AD 65, the book is a collection of letters written by the Roman philosopher Seneca the Younger almost two thousand years ago.

The letters are a series of advice on how to live well; what constitutes a good and moral life according to a "a fairly orthodox, albeit a free-minded Stoic". Imagine my surprise, then, when amidst all this current discourse on why you should write (or engage in any other artistic endeavour, for that matter) I came across Seneca's thoughts from two millennia back on this very subject.

In his seventh letter, On Crowds, Seneca cautions his friend Lucilius on the dangers of crowds. He opens the letter:

Do you ask me what you should regard as especially to be avoided?

I say, crowds; for as yet you cannot trust yourself to them with safety.

I shall admit my own weakness, at any rate; for I never bring back home the same character that I took abroad with me.

Before doubling down:

To consort with the crowd is harmful; there is no person who does not make some vice attractive to us, or stamp it upon us, or taint us unconsciously therewith. Certainly, the greater the mob with which we mingle, the greater the danger.

According to Seneca, there is no man so virtuous that he is impervious to regressing to the mean in facing the crowds:

Even Socrates, Cato, and Laelius might have been shaken in their moral strength by a crowd that was unlike them; so true it is that none of us, no matter how much he cultivates his abilities, can withstand the shock of faults that approach, as it were, with so great a retinue.

As you might surmise, then, Seneca was not of the opinion that you should seek approval and claim from the masses. He exemplifies by quoting an unknown author (emphasis mine):

The following also was nobly spoken by someone or other for it is doubtful who the author was. They asked him what was the object of all this study applied to an art that would reach but very few. He replied:

"I am content with few, content with one, content with none at all."

Closing out his letter, he quotes Greek philosopher Epicurus and implores Lucilius to take heed of his advice (emphasis mine again):

“I write this not for the many, but for you; each of us is enough of an audience for the other.” Lay these words to heart, Lucilius, that you may scorn the pleasure which comes from the applause of the majority.

Before ending on a similar note (once more, emphasis mine):

Many men praise you; but have you any reason for being pleased with yourself if you are a person whom the many can understand?

Your good qualities should face inwards.

What does all of this mean for the discussion at hand? Well, my intention is only to show that it is an age-old debate, dating millennia back, and probably further. That it still goes on is probably testament to the fact that there is no straight answer.

But now, at least, you know what opinion a "fairly orthodox, albeit free-minded" Stoic held on the matter.