I don't have luxurious tastes or great needs, but my independence

"I don't have luxurious tastes or great needs, but my independence is worth a lot to me." – Emmanuel Macron

Hear these words, O seekers of wisdom, for in their simplicity lies the grandeur of truth. When Emmanuel Macron, a man risen from scholar to statesman, spoke these words, he revealed not the pride of power, but the heart of a soul that values freedom above finery. In a world where many chase gold, applause, and indulgence, Macron’s confession stands like a clear spring amid the deserts of ambition. He tells us that true wealth is not measured in jewels or feasts, but in the quiet dignity of independence — the right to act, to think, to live by one’s own conscience.

The origin of this thought springs from the eternal struggle between comfort and character. Throughout time, those who have sought to serve higher purposes have faced the same temptation: to trade their freedom for pleasure, to exchange their will for the ease of dependence. Yet the wise have always known that luxury, though sweet to the senses, can dull the spirit, while independence, though austere, nourishes the soul. Macron’s words echo this ancient truth — that it is better to live modestly in freedom than lavishly in servitude.

Consider the tale of Diogenes of Sinope, the philosopher who lived in a clay jar and owned nothing but a cloak and a lamp. When Alexander the Great, ruler of the known world, stood before him and asked what he desired, Diogenes replied, “Stand out of my sunlight.” In that moment, the conqueror of nations beheld the only man he could not conquer — for Diogenes had no master but himself. His independence was his kingdom. Macron’s sentiment, though spoken in another age, carries the same spirit: to possess oneself fully is a greater treasure than to possess the world half-heartedly.

Yet let none mistake Macron’s humility for poverty of ambition. To renounce luxurious tastes is not to despise beauty, but to keep one’s heart unbound. The man who does not crave excess is the one who cannot be corrupted. For when a person’s needs are few, their choices are their own. This is the essence of power — not the ability to command others, but the freedom to command oneself. Such independence cannot be bought with gold, nor granted by office; it must be forged through discipline, integrity, and the courage to stand alone.

In our modern age, this teaching is ever more urgent. We are surrounded by the glitter of consumption, by the endless whisper that happiness lies in more — more wealth, more fame, more comfort. But the ancients would remind us, as Macron does, that freedom begins where desire ends. He who owns little, but rules his own heart, is richer than the one who owns much and is ruled by it. To live without great needs is not to live without joy; it is to find joy in simplicity, to savor life unchained by greed.

And yet, independence comes at a cost. It demands solitude, courage, and sometimes sacrifice. It means saying no to what dazzles, and yes to what endures. It means earning your place by merit, not by favor; it means walking paths that others fear to tread. Macron’s words remind us that the truly independent man is one who can look at the world — with all its promises of power and pleasure — and still say, “I am enough.”

So let this wisdom be a guide to all who hear it: value your independence as the greatest of possessions. Guard it against the subtle chains of comfort and approval. Do not seek luxury at the cost of freedom, nor applause at the cost of truth. Live simply, but live freely. For when you own your thoughts, your time, and your purpose, you possess all that is worth possessing. As Emmanuel Macron declared, the truest wealth is not in the things one owns, but in the independence that no one can take away.