Epicurus and the Chocolate Factory

Epicurus and the Chocolate Factory

Charlie Bucket is not like other children. His singular

perspective on life, which we see even in the opening chapters of

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, becomes particularly evident when he

visits the Chocolate Factory with the other children holding

Golden Tickets. As each of the other children falls prey to his

or her immoderate desires and spoiled impulses, Charlie is able

calmly to relish the wonders that he is experiencing in the

amazing and fanciful factory. So how is Charlie different? The

philosophy of Epicurus offers an insightful perspective for

understanding why Charlie is special and why, in the end, he

deserves to share in the joys of Willy Wonka’s creation.

“Welcome to the Factory!” The Epicurean Life

Living amidst the rich variety of philosophical ideas that

proliferated in the ancient Greek and Roman world, Epicurus (341-

270 BCE) took a distinctive approach. Earlier philosophers, such

as Aristotle and Plato, believed that only a select group of

people were blessed with the natural talent or external resources

1

necessary to achieve a truly worthy and happy life. In contrast,

Epicurus sought to create a philosophy of life accessible to

anyone—noble-born or working class, rich or poor, young or old,

man or woman. He claimed that pleasure is the goal of life:

We say that pleasure is the starting point and goal of

living blessedly. For we recognized this as our first

innate good, and this is the starting point of every

choice and avoidance and we come to this by judging

every good by the criterion of feeling.1

From the moment we’re born, he explained, we pursue pleasure and

avoid its opposite, pain. A newborn infant, who knows nothing

else, seeks pleasure in the warmth of a parent’s caress, cries

when hungry or cold or afraid, and rests peacefully when her

needs are satisfied and fears soothed.2 Now, as we grow up and

internalize the (often arbitrary) social norms and expectations

of our culture, we may begin to convince ourselves and each other

that we pursue higher or nobler goals, but still, what we really

seek and want, deep down, is pleasure and freedom from pain.

According to Epicureanism, therefore, attaining a good and

happy life is much simpler than people often think it is.

2

Nevertheless, many people fail to live good lives. Why? Because,

Epicurus explained, it’s easy to become confused about what a

good life is and what it requires and as a result to get involved

in pursuits that cause more harm than good. According to

Epicurus, the pleasure that matters and creates a true and

lasting happiness comes not from the pleasures of excess or

indulgence—from extravagant feasts, death-defying thrills, or

expensive purchases. Instead, the highest pleasure arises from

the healthy, natural state of body and mind:

When we say that pleasure is the goal we do not mean

the pleasures of the profligate or the pleasures of

consumption, as some believe… but rather the lack of

pain in the body and disturbance in the soul.3

This idea has struck many as strange—what is pleasant about mere

freedom from pain? Think about it, though: When do you most enjoy

your experiences? It is when you are fully absorbed in what you

are doing, in the activity of living, without physical or mental

distractions. Imagine laughing with friends, reading a good book,

or playing your favorite sport. You aren’t experiencing thrills

of sensual pleasure, but at that moment, you enjoy being alive.

3

You lose track of time, engrossed in the moment. On the other

hand, a persistent physical pain, such as a toothache, makes

enjoying any activity or experience difficult. And when your mind

is buffeted by anxiety, stress, and fear, the simple enjoyment of

living becomes impossible.

Charlie and his family have a hard life. But even in poverty

and discomfort, they share moments of happiness when, because of

the joy of each other’s company, they forget their cares and lose

themselves in the stories told by Charlie’s four ancient

grandparents:

As soon as they heard Charlie’s voice saying, “Good

evening, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine, and Grandpa

George and Grandma Georgina,” then all four of them

would suddenly sit up, and their old wrinkled faces

would light up with smiles of pleasure—and the talking

would begin. For they loved this little boy. … Often,

Charlie’s mother and father would come in as well, and

stand by the door, listening to the stories that the

old people told; and thus, for perhaps half an hour

4

every night, this room would become a happy place, and

the whole family would forget that it was poor.4

Epicurus writes, “Poverty, if measured by the goal of nature, is

great wealth; and wealth, if limits are not set for it, is great

poverty.”5 Money, as Epicurus would acknowledge, has uses—the

Buckets certainly could use more of it. But money isn’t the most

important thing, since it’s possible to be wealthy and miserable,

or conversely to have much happiness in life without a lot in the

way of material possessions. The most important thing is the

attitude you take, and the joy you are able to find in what life

gives you.

Moreover, as Epicurus explains, a person who gets used to

little can better appreciate those times when life provides the

opportunity for special enjoyments. Epicurus writes,

We believe that self-sufficiency is a great good, not

in order that we might make do with few things under

all circumstances, but so that if we do not have a lot

we can make do with few, being genuinely convinced that

those who least need extravagance enjoy it most.6

5

The circumstances of his life have forced Charlie to do without

most luxuries, but he does have one indulgence: chocolate. Once a

year, on his birthday, Charlie receives a Wonka chocolate bar.

Other children, blessed with the resources for casual

extravagance, take their chocolate bars for granted, munching bar

after bar without much thought or gratitude for what they have.

Charlie does not. As a result, he treasures every moment of

enjoyment from his chocolate:

Each time he received [his birthday chocolate], he

would place it carefully in a small wooden box that he

owned, and treasure it as though it were a bar of solid

gold; and for the next few days, he would allow himself

only to look at it, but never to touch it. Then, at

last, when he could stand it no longer, he would peel

back a tiny bit of the paper wrapping at one corner to

expose a tiny bit of chocolate, and then he would take a

tiny nibble—just enough to allow the lovely sweet taste

to spread out slowly over his tongue. … In this way, he

would make his ten-cent bar of birthday chocolate last

for more than a month.7

6

This story tells us two things about Charlie: First, he has an

incredible amount of self-control! But, more importantly, he’s

learned how to extract more pleasure from one small piece of

chocolate than most children would have from mounds of candy.

Because he does not get to enjoy this experience very often, he

knows to be grateful for it when it comes.

The Curious Wisdom of Small Children in Times of Hardship: Needs

and Wants

As I’ve explained, the goal of Epicurus’ philosophy was not

bursts of wild, sensuous excitement, to be followed by headaches

and regret, but rather a steady, healthy state of body and mind

in which one could maintain pleasurable experience over the long

term. But what does a person need for a healthy life? In his

usual way, Epicurus sought to reduce this problem to a simple

idea which anyone could understand. There are, he explained,

three types of desire: natural and necessary; natural, but not

necessary; and unnatural, unnecessary desires, which, as Epicurus

put it, “are produced by a groundless opinion.”8 Understanding

this distinction provides a clear standard for managing our lives

7

and knowing how to respond to the chance events that life throws

at us.

Natural and necessary desires are, as the name suggests, the

desires that you must satisfy to keep your body and mind in a

healthy state.9 To stay healthy and free from mental disturbance,

you must eat; you must drink; you must have shelter from cold and

wet. If any of these desires were left unsatisfied, pain would

inevitably result, of the sort that disturbs your tranquility and

enjoyment.10 It is hard to engage in the activities of life with

enjoyment when your stomach aches with hunger, when your head

throbs because of dehydration, or when you’re shivering with cold

or illness. Epicurus insisted that, with prudent life management,

the basics of life should be “easy to acquire.”11 Not everyone

can afford gourmet meals and a lush mansion, but Epicurus was

confident that a prudent person would always find enough to keep

her stomach filled and the pains of need at bay.12

The plight of Charlie and his family, however, reveals a

harsher reality—sometimes, through no fault of their own, people

just do not have enough of what they need to keep themselves

8

pain-free and satisfied. The first chapter explains the Bucket’s

situation:

In the summertime, [sleeping on the floor] wasn’t too

bad, but in the winter, freezing drafts blew across the

floor all night long, and it was awful. There wasn’t

any question of them being able to buy a better house—

or even one more bed to sleep in. They were far too

poor for that. …

There wasn’t even enough money to buy proper food for

them all. The only meals they could afford were bread

and margarine for breakfast, boiled potatoes and

cabbage for lunch, and cabbage soup for supper. … The

Buckets, of course, didn’t starve, but every one of

them … went about from morning till night with a

horrible empty feeling in their tummies.13

Later, the situation becomes even worse. The weather grows

colder; the factory where Mr. Bucket makes his minimal salary,

screwing caps onto toothpaste tubes, closes down; and an already

lean life turns desperate:

9

Every day, Charlie Bucket grew thinner and thinner. His

face became frighteningly white and pinched. His skin

was drawn so tightly over the cheeks that you could see

the shapes of the bones underneath. It seemed doubtful

whether he could go on much longer like this without

becoming dangerously ill.14

Any person in extreme poverty knows they must satisfy natural and

necessary desires—it is their daily reality—but they also realize

that circumstances do not always cooperate.

Despite having every reason for despair, however, Charlie

and his family cope as well as one might expect by following the

advice Epicurus might have offered. Epicurus wrote, “Of the

things which wisdom provides for the blessedness of one’s whole

life, by far the greatest is the possession of friendship.”15 He

had in mind a group of like-minded friends, creating a bulwark

against life’s vagaries, through their love, support, and advice

to each other. Epicurus himself established this kind of

community, called the Garden, on an estate outside of Athens

where he lived together with his friends, growing their own food

and enjoying each other’s company. In such a community, Epicurus

10

reasoned, a person need fear nothing that life could throw at

him, because his friends would always be there to encourage him,

cheer him up, and lend a hand in trouble. Similarly, Charlie’s

family—his careworn father and mother and four bedridden

grandparents—has created this kind of community. They are not

doing well. It’s clear that their situation is not sustainable in

the long run, with so many mouths depending on Mr. Bucket’s

meager earnings. Still, they love each other, sustaining each

other through the cold and privation of their existence.

Beastly Girls and Boys: Exceeding the Limits of Desire

Once your basic human needs are satisfied—once your body and

mind are healthy and undisturbed, and you have like-minded

friends to love and take care of you and create confidence about

the future—then, according to Epicurus, you don’t need anything

else to be happy. Minimal material resources are enough to keep

the pain of need at bay:

As soon as we achieve this state, every storm in the

soul is dispelled, since the animal is not in a

11

position to go after some need nor to seek something

else to complete the good of the body and the soul.16

Epicurus admits, however, that it is natural to want some

“variation” in your experiences. Bread and margarine and cabbage

and potato soup keep a body alive, but they are not very

interesting. This is where natural but not necessary desires come

in: They include desires for varied foods, more stylish clothing,

a soft bed, or a more spacious, luxurious house. If you have the

chance to enjoy these things, Epicurus held, there is no harm in

indulging.17 Charlie’s love of chocolate is an example—he takes

great enjoyment in chocolate, because it varies the usual

blandness of his diet and daily routine. It’s natural that he

should want it and look forward to his limited opportunities to

enjoy it. But he also knows he does not need chocolate to live.

The natural, unnecessary desires, however, lie dangerously

close to one of the greatest scourges of human life, the

unnatural, unnecessary desires. Epicurus calls these desires

“empty” or “occurring as a result of a groundless opinion”. In

his view, these desires are a chief source of human misery—we

become convinced that we need things that, in fact, aren’t

12

necessary. We yearn for them, valuing them all out of proportion

with their actual benefit. And the more we get, the more we want,

until these insatiable appetites consume our lives and

relationships and tear our minds apart with anxiety and craving.

In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet

Beauregarde, and Mike Teavee provide object lessons in the

consequences of empty, unnatural desires gone amok.

The cycle of psychological degradation Epicurus describes is

not uncommon. It starts with an occasional luxury, a novel

variation to break the boredom. It could be a beer or two at

dinner, a candy bar after school, a salty snack in the afternoon,

a few hours playing a video game. At this level, these pleasures

are innocent. They satisfy natural—though unnecessary—desires,

adding variety and spice to life.18 The danger, however, is that

what begins as harmless fun does not remain that way. The

occasional treat soon becomes a habit, then a craving, and

finally—in one’s own mind at least—a necessity.19 In the end,

what once served you and your happiness now becomes your master.

So how did Veruca Salt, Mike Teavee, and the other children

become the despicable creatures we see in the book? They weren’t

13

born that way—Epicurus calls these desires “unnatural” precisely

because a healthy and properly developed body and mind would not

experience them. On the contrary, their degradation was gradual,

rooted in natural and apparently harmless desires. Consider the

first child to find a Golden Ticket, Augustus Gloop:

Mr. Bucket’s newspaper carried a large picture of him

on the front page. The picture showed a nine-year-old

boy who was so enormously fat he looked as though he

had been blown up with a powerful pump. …

“I just knew Augustus would find a Golden Ticket,” his

mother had told the newspaperman. “He eats so many

candy bars a day that it is almost impossible for him not

to find one. Eating is his hobby, you know. That’s all

he’s interested in.”20

Eating starts off as a “hobby”—a way to stave off boredom and

vary experience—but it’s clear that, for Augustus, it’s now

become much more than that, a fact that his mother fails to

recognize. The second child to find a Golden Ticket is Veruca

Salt, a girl whose rich parents dare deny her nothing:

14

“You see, fellers,” [Mr. Salt] had said, “as soon as my

little girl told me that she simply had to have one of

those Golden Tickets, I went out into the town and

stated buying up all the Wonka candy bars I could lay

my hands on. Thousands of them, I must have bought.

Hundreds of thousands! … Oh, it was terrible! My little

Veruca got more and more upset each day, and every time

I went home she would scream at me, ‘Where’s my Golden

Ticket! I want my Golden Ticket!” And she would lie for hours

on the floor, kicking and yelling in the most

disturbing way.”21

The others have similar stories—because their parents can’t tell

them no and they were never compelled to learn their limits or

develop self-control, their “hobbies” have become obsessions,

indulgences have become entitlements, and before long, their

empty and unnatural desires take over their lives.

The only way for a person in this state to regain

equilibrium and mental health, according to Epicurus, is to learn

the true limits of human happiness and desire. That makes it

sound easy, as if all you need to do is to read Epicurus’ “Letter

15

to Menoeceus” and Principle Doctrines and you’ll be cured. But

Epicurus (like other Greek philosophers) realized that beliefs—

especially the deep beliefs that make up one’s identity and way

of life—are not changed so easily. It’s not a matter merely of

reading a book or hearing an argument. A long term smoker does

not quit because he reads statistics on lung cancer or sees a

warning on a pack of cigarettes. Someone hooked on chocolate, or

gum, or TV does not give up their obsession because some adult

tells them to stop. Sometimes, one must confront an experience

that vividly brings a truth home for change to begin. And even

then, habits of thought are stubborn. Relapses are likely.

When Augustus Gloop sees the river of melted chocolate in

Willy Wonka’s Factory, he cannot resist. While the others are

marveling at the amazing room, he sneaks down to the edge of the

river and begins “scooping hot melted chocolate into his mouth as

fast as he could.” Willy Wonka and his parents yell for him to

stop, “but Augustus was deaf to everything except the call of his

enormous stomach”, and he plunges into the river, to be sucked up

the pipe to the Fudge Room.22 As Epicurus would put it, “nothing

is enough to someone for whom enough is little.”23

16

This pattern repeats for each of the other spoiled children:

First, Violet, puffed up by pride in her world-record gum-chewing

prowess, snatches Wonka’s experimental chewing-gum meal, only to

be puffed up literally by the gum’s (known) side effects.24 Then

Veruca is tossed down the garbage shoot, rejected as a bad nut,

after insisting on having her own pet squirrel in the Nut Room.25

Finally, Mike is shrunk down small enough to fit into the palm of

his mother’s hand, when he runs recklessly into Wonka’s

television-chocolate machine.26 In each case, the child’s

obsessive desires take over, and they ignore all warnings as they

plunge headlong into trouble.

While the other children spend their time in the chocolate

factory alternately complaining and getting into trouble,

however, Charlie simply takes in the experience with delight and

wonder:

Charlie was holding tightly onto his grandfather’s bony

old had. He was in a whirl of excitement. Everything

that he had seen so far—the great chocolate river, the

waterfall, the huge sucking pipes, the candy meadows,

the Oompa-Loompas, the beautiful pink boat, and most of

17

all, Mr. Willy Wonka himself—had been so astonishing

that he began to wonder whether there could possibly be

any more astonishments left.27

Even the astonishing delights of the factory are not enough for

the other children—they want more. But for Charlie, everything

is wonderful and amazing.

As we learn near the end of the book, all of the bad

children go home from the factory eventually, transformed but

otherwise unharmed.28 Are Augustus, Violet, Veruca, and Mike

reformed and redeemed by their experiences in the Chocolate

Factory? Have they and their parents learned to appreciate life’s

simple pleasures? We don’t know, but we might hope so.

An Extraordinary Little Man: Willy Wonka

Ultimately, the most memorable character in Charlie and the

Chocolate Factory is not Charlie or the corrupted children, but

Willy Wonka. (There is a reason, I think, that the 1971 movie

adaptation was called “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,”

and that Johnny Depp was brought in to play the role in the 2005

remake.) He is reclusive and mysterious. He locked himself away

18

in his factory for 10 years after firing all his workers and

replacing them with Oompa-Loompas, when rival spies stole his

recipes.29 He bursts with manic energy when he greets the

children:

And his eyes—his eyes were the most marvelously bright.

They seemed to be sparkling and twinkling at you all

the time. The whole face, in fact, was alight with fun

and laughter. And oh, how clever he looked! How quick

and sharp and full of life! He kept making quick jerky

little movements with his head, cocking it this way and

that, and taking everything in with those bright

twinkling eyes. He was like a squirrel in the quickness

of his movements, like a quick clever old squirrel from

the park.30

In each version, he’s a strange, almost inhuman figure, more

force of nature than person. One might be tempted to read Wonka

as a sort of whimsical god, who—through the world he created—

metes out justice to the humans in his realm, punishing the

wicked (the four bad children) and rewarding the good (Charlie).

Indeed, the fates suffered by the four bad children recall the

19

divine justice in Dante’s Inferno—their misfortunes seem

particularly matched to their sins.

I would argue, however, that Willy Wonka is closer to

Epicurus’ way of thinking about the gods than to either the

ancient Greek or Judeo-Christian conceptions.31 Contrary to the

prevailing beliefs of his time, Epicurus argued that the gods

don’t actually care about humans, nor are they responsible for

anything good or bad that happens to us. They exist apart from

our world, in state of perfect happiness and tranquility, and, as

Epicurus argues, neither anger nor gratitude would be appropriate

for such beings.32 Among other things, that means that they do

not mete out punishments or rewards, either in this life or an

afterlife. On the contrary, as the Epicurean poet Lucretius so

vividly explains, the “punishments” we imagine the gods

inflicting on us actually represent the misery we bring on

ourselves through our own foolishness:

And Sisyphus exists in life, right here before our

eyes:

The man consumed with seeking the accoutrements of

office

20

From the people, who always come back sad and beaten.

To be driven

To seek power—an illusion after all—which is never

given,

And undergo endless hard toil in striving for it still,

This is the act of struggling to shove a stone uphill,

Which, at the very peak, only goes bounding down

again…33

Sisyphus is not real. Instead, his story represents one kind of

self-inflicted misery we encounter in this life. In this way,

Lucretius concludes, “at last, the life of fools becomes a Hell

on Earth.”34 The same is true of the children in Willy Wonka’s

factory—he did not set up his factory intentionally to trap and

punish bad children. When Violet hastily pops the experimental

gum into her mouth, or when Veruca races into the Nut Room to

snatch a pet squirrel, he’s as surprised as anyone. Like

Epicurus’ gods, he inhabits a special region of space, separate

for the most part from the normal human realm, where he remains

absorbed in the pure joy of his own activities. (He’s odd largely

because he seems so oblivious to anything outside of his factory

21

and his experiments.) The misery the children suffer is brought

on themselves because of their own unnatural desires.

At the climax of the story, after the other children are

gone, Willy Wonka invites Charlie to be the heir to his Factory.

Wonka recognizes a kindred spirit in the boy, someone who can

truly appreciate and care for his factory and its wonders:

“How I love my chocolate factory,” said Mr. Wonka,

gazing down. Then he paused, and he turned to Charlie

with a most serious expression on his face. “Do you

love it, too, Charlie?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” cried Charlie, “I think it’s the most

wonderful place in the whole world!”

“I am very pleased to hear you say that,” said Mr.

Wonka, looking more serious than ever. … Mr. Wonka

cocked his head to one side and all at once the tiny

twinkling wrinkles of a smile appeared around the

corners of his eyes, and he said, “You see, my dear

boy, I have decided to make you a present of the whole

place.”35

22

But Epicurus promises the same for anyone who understands and

internalizes the truths of his philosophy:

Practice these and the related precepts day and night,

by yourself and with a like-minded friend, and you will

never be disturbed either when awake or in sleep, and

you will live as a god among men. For a man who lives

among immortal goods is in no respect like a mere

mortal animal.36

We don’t become immortal, but by living an Epicurean life, we do

enjoy the same quality of experience as the gods. The immortal

goods of happiness are available to all of us, if only we are

willing to take them. Charlie had the good fortune to find the

Golden Ticket, and that lucky chance may have saved him and his

family from starvation. But the keys to happiness were already

within him.

23

1 Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus,” in Hellenistic Philosophy: Introductory

Readings, 2nd ed., ed. Brad Inwood and L. P. Gerson (Indianapolis:

Hackett Publishing Company, 1997), 30. All citations and quotations

from Epicurus are from Inwood and Gerson’s collection.

2 This argument appears in Cicero, On Goals 1.30, in Inwood and

Gerson, Hellenistic Philosophy, 57-58.

3 Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus,” 30-31; see also Epicurus,

Principle Doctrines III, XVIII, XXI, in Inwood and Gerson, Hellenistic

Philosophy, 32-34.

4 Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (New York: Alfred A.

Knopf, 1964), 8.

5 Epicurus, Vatican Saying 25, in Inwood and Gerson,Hellenistic

Philosophy, 37.

6 Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus,” 30.

7 Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, 6.

8 Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus,” 29-30; Principle Doctrines XXIX-

XXX, 34-35.


10 Epicurus, Principle Doctrine XXVI, 34; see also Vatican Saying 71, 39.

11 Epicurus, Principle Doctrines XV, XXI, 33-34. See also Epicurus,

“Letter to Menoeceus,” 30: “Everything natural is easy to obtain and

whatever is groundless is hard to obtain … Barley cakes and water

provide the highest pleasure when someone in want takes them.”

12 “Chance has a small impact on the wise man, while reasoning

has arranged for, is arranging for, and will arrange for the greatest

and most important matters throughout the whole of his life”

(Epicurus, Principle Doctrine XVI, 33). To be fair to Epicurus, he is not

saying that everyone has easy access to the essentials of life.

Rather, he thinks a prudent man can arrange things to ensure a

consistent supply.



15 Epicurus, Principle Doctrine XXVII, 34.


17 See Epicurus, Vatican Saying 21: “One must not force nature but

persuade her. And we will persuade her by fulfilling the necessary

desires, and the natural ones too if they do not harm [us], but

sharply rejecting the harmful ones” (37). See also Epicurus, Principle

Doctrine XXVI, 34.

18 A scholiast on Principle Doctrine XXIX reads, “Natural and not

necessary are those [desires] which merely provide variations of

pleasure but do not remove the feeling of pain, for example expensive

foods” (34, footnote 20).

19 See Epicurus, Principle Doctrine XXX: “Among natural desires, those

which do not lead to a feeling of pain if not fulfilled and about

which there is an intense effort, these are produced by a groundless

opinion and they fail to be dissolved not because of their own nature

but because of the groundless opinions of mankind” (34-5).

20 Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, 21-22.



23 Epicurus, Vatican Saying 68, 39.








31 In some ways, of course, he’s not a god at all—he’s very old,

but not immortal, and while he’s calm in the face of unexpected

setbacks, he’s not entirely free from disturbing emotions like anger,

jealousy, and anxiety. He brings the children into the Factory

because he needs someone to carry on his work after he’s gone (Dahl,

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, 151). Perhaps it’s more accurate to say

that he’s a very advanced Epicurean sage.

32 Epicurus writes, “What is blessed and indestructible has no

troubles itself, nor does it give trouble to anyone else, so that it

is not affected by feelings of anger or gratitude. For all such

things are a sign of weakness” (Principle Doctrine I, 32).

33 Lucretius, The Nature of Things, trans. A. E. Stallings (New York:

Penguin Classics, 2007), 102.

34 Lucretius, The Nature of Things, 103.



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Epicurus and the Chocolate Factory