epicurus wouldn’t approve

how a philosophy of moderation became a celebration of excess

If Epicurus were alive today, he’d probably be horrified to find his name attached to a 10k wine-and-cheese pairing. Not because he was against wine or cheese, he actually wrote fondly about the joys of a simple pot of cheese, but because he spent his life arguing that pleasure comes from needing less, not acquiring more.

And yet, here we are. Somewhere along the way, Epicurean stopped meaning content with life’s small joys and started meaning lives for the tasting menu. The man who championed moderation and tranquility has been posthumously turned into the patron saint of luxury.

It’s not just a case of historical telephone, this was a full-scale philosophical rebranding. So how did it happen? How did a philosophy built on simplicity become a marketing term for indulgence? As with most things, we can blame the Romans, the French, and capitalism.

Let’s start at the beginning.

Epicurus: The OG Minimalist

To understand where this all went wrong, you first need to understand what Epicurus was actually about.

Born in 341 BCE, Epicurus was a philosopher who believed that the key to happiness wasn’t wealth, power, or even passion, it was tranquility. His goal was ataraxia, a Greek word that basically means a state of calm where nothing bothers you. He wanted to eliminate anxiety, and he saw most human suffering as self-inflicted, the result of chasing things we think will make us happy but inevitably make us miserable.

For Epicurus, there were two main sources of pain: physical pain and mental anxiety. Physical pain was harder to control, but mental anxiety? That was on us.

He broke down desires into three categories:

1. Natural and necessary: Food, water, shelter, friendship. Basic things that keep us alive and content.

2. Natural but unnecessary: Luxury, extravagant meals, fine clothes. Pleasant but not needed.

3. Neither natural nor necessary: Fame, wealth, power. The things that wreck your life while convincing you they’ll fix it.

Epicurus' whole thing was that you should focus on the first category, enjoy the second in small doses, and avoid the third like it’s a weekend email from your boss. He was, by all accounts, the most low-maintenance dinner guest in history. His idea of indulgence was a pot of cheese. This was the man we somehow turned into a symbol of extravagance.

Blame the Romans (They Always Do This)

For about 200 years, Epicureanism remained pretty true to itself. Epicurus’ followers lived in small communities, eating simple meals, avoiding politics, and generally minding their own business. Then the Romans got involved, and this is where things took a turn.

The Romans loved Greek philosophy. But they also loved excess. They took what they liked, ignored the rest, and called it a day. When it came to Epicureanism, they heard pleasure is good and stopped listening before the part about moderation.

By the time of people like Lucullus, a Roman general famous for hosting dinners so elaborate that even other Romans were like, Is this a bit much? being an Epicurean meant having a vomitorium at your party so guests could purge and keep eating. (This was not, in fact, Epicurus’ dream scenario.)

This was the first major shift. Epicurus’ ideas were about reducing desire, but the Romans made it about maximizing pleasure. The philosophy became a convenient excuse for indulgence.

French Food Critics, Capitalism, and Other Culprits

If the Romans misunderstood Epicurus, the French in the 17th and 18th centuries turned the misinterpretation into an art form. This was the Versailles era, where food became a performance.

Meals were no longer about sustenance, they were about spectacle. Five-hour feasts with 15 courses. Theatrical displays of wealth. Dishes designed to impress rather than nourish. If you’ve ever been to a fine dining restaurant where your meal arrives in the form of a single foam-covered bite, you have the French aristocracy to thank.

It was during this period that Epicurean became synonymous with refined tastes, gourmet food, and the kind of luxury that, ironically, Epicurus would have found exhausting. By the time the French Revolution rolled around, Epicurean no longer meant seeker of tranquility. It meant rich people who will probably be executed soon.

And then, of course, capitalism came in and did what it does best, took a concept, stripped it of its original meaning, and sold it back to us in the form of products.

By the 20th century, Epicurean had fully transformed into a marketing term. Epicurean cuisine. Epicurean travel. Epicurean bath products. The word became shorthand for anything expensive, indulgent, and aspirational. The modern Epicurean isn’t a person who seeks simple joys. It’s a person who spends 16000/- on a tasting menu and describes it as a gastronomic experience.

What Epicurus Actually Wanted (Hint: It Wasn’t Caviar)

The real reason Epicurus' philosophy got distorted is that it told people something they didn’t want to hear. That happiness comes from wanting less. And nobody wants to hear that.

People want to be told that their desires are valid, that their indulgences are meaningful. We don’t want a philosophy that asks us to simplify, we want one that justifies our spending habits.

Over time, Epicurus’ message was softened, reshaped, and eventually flipped on its head. The idea that pleasure is good in moderation became pleasure is good, period. And that’s how you get Epicurus, who once said water and bread are all you really need, becoming the mascot of fine dining.

If there’s a lesson here, it’s that we should probably start listening to what philosophers actually said rather than what we’d like them to have said.

Epicurus wasn’t against pleasure, he just understood that the easiest way to be happy is to want less. He didn’t believe in excess, not because he was against fun, but because he knew that chasing indulgence is a never-ending cycle. The moment you need luxury, you’ve already lost the game.

Maybe the next time someone describes themselves as an Epicurean, ask them what they had for dinner. If they say ‘a simple meal, enjoyed in peace,’ they might actually get it.

If they say ‘a 14-course Wagyu tasting,’ well… we’ve learned nothing.