Dryness – whether understood literally (as the absence of moisture) or metaphorically (as emotional restraint or plainness) – has been viewed as a positive quality in various domains. Across history and cultures, the phrase “dry is a virtue” finds resonance in philosophy, cultural norms, literature, and spiritual practices. Below, we explore interpretations of “dryness” as a virtue in each of these areas, with historical and modern examples.

Philosophical Interpretations of “Dryness” as Virtue

In philosophical traditions, dryness often corresponds to qualities like stoicism, detachment, and ascetic simplicity. The Stoics, for example, prized apatheia – freedom from passion – which one might liken to an emotional dryness or restraint. They taught that virtue comes from mastering one’s emotions and desires, remaining unswayed by the “moisture” of passions. This idea surfaces even earlier in Greek thought: Heraclitus famously asserted that “Dry light is ever the best,” suggesting that the clearest understanding comes from a mind free of emotional “dampness” . Francis Bacon later echoed this, noting that counsel from a friend is “drier and purer” – less tainted by one’s own emotions – than self-counsel, which is “drenched” in personal affections . In essence, reason and insight thrive in a “dry” (emotionally impartial) state.

Beyond Stoicism, many ascetic philosophies treat abstinence and simplicity as virtues – a kind of dry lifestyle without indulgence. The Cynics of ancient Greece, for instance, lived with minimal possessions and comfort, embracing a “dry” existence stripped of luxuries. In Eastern thought, Buddhist philosophy identifies craving as tanhā, literally “thirst” . Enlightenment (nirvana) is achieved by quenching this thirst – metaphorically drying out the desires that cause suffering. Thus, the ideal sage or monk is one who has “dried up” the well of attachment, attaining equanimity. We see a similar notion in Confucian and Daoist moderation: emotional coolness and self-control are admired, aligning with an ethos of restrained (dry) demeanor rather than passionate excess. Across these traditions, dryness – in the sense of cool rationality, self-restraint, and austere living – is viewed as conducive to virtue and wisdom.

Cultural Contexts Where Dryness is Praised

A dry landscape rock garden at Ryōan-ji Temple in Kyoto, Japan. This Zen “dry garden” (枯山水 karesansui) uses gravel and stone in place of water and lush flora, reflecting an aesthetic of austerity and meditation .

Culturally, dryness is often considered a virtue when it comes to humor, climate, and social customs. One well-known example is dry humor. In cultures like Britain, dry wit – marked by a straight-faced, understated delivery – is highly valued. British humour typically involves sarcasm and subtlety delivered with a deadpan tone, “burying emotions” behind irony . This deadpan dryness is admired as a sign of sophistication and cleverness. A cutting remark or joke told without a smile can be seen as more witty than an obvious gag. Other cultures too appreciate this virtue of dry humor; for instance, aspects of Jewish humor and American satire employ dryness to highlight absurdities. In these contexts, being “dry” (reserved and unsentimental) in one’s comedic tone is a positive trait, conveying intellect and control.

Dryness in a literal, climatic sense has also been imbued with virtue in cultural memory. Harsh dry landscapes like deserts often carry connotations of purity, resilience, and spiritual testing. Many cultures’ heroes and prophets emerge from the desert: enduring arid conditions proves their discipline. For example, in the Middle East, the desert is seen as a cleansing place where prophets (from Moses to Muhammad) underwent trials. The Australian Aboriginal walkabout and Native American vision quests similarly involve journeys into arid wilderness, associating the dry, empty land with inner strength and revelation. In Japan, Zen Buddhists created dry gardens of raked gravel and rocks (miniature “deserts”) precisely to cultivate contemplation. The famous Zen rock garden of Ryōan-ji in Kyoto is a “dry landscape” designed to inspire reflection – with no water or lush foliage, it embodies simplicity and restraint as an ideal . The garden’s very sparseness is valued: it feels bright and “dry,” encouraging a meditative state rather than sensory indulgence . Culturally, then, dry climates and settings are often seen as virtuous environments that forge endurance and clarity of mind.

Certain social customs and norms also treat dryness or abstinence as virtuous. Consider the ethos of temperance in the early 20th-century West: those who supported prohibition of alcohol proudly called themselves “dry.” In the United States, the Prohibition era (1920–1933) was driven by the conviction that society would be more moral if it stayed “dry” (free from liquor). Being officially “dry” was equated with piety and high purpose . Even today, many communities laud sobriety as a virtue – for example, the modern “Dry January” movement encourages people to forego alcohol for a month as a test of discipline and healthy living. As one ethics commentator put it, “There seems to be something virtuous about abstaining from things that you like but are bad for you.” In other words, voluntary dryness – whether no alcohol, no indulgent foods, or sexual abstinence – is often praised as an act of self-control and purity. Culturally, this idea spans from religious “dry days” to secular health trends, all reflecting the belief that denying oneself excess moisture (literal or figurative) builds character.

Dryness in Literature and Literary Criticism

In the literary realm, dryness has been both a stylistic descriptor and a quality to admire under certain circumstances. Writers and critics sometimes use “dry” to describe prose or humor that is restrained, subtle, and unsentimental – and this is frequently intended as praise. For instance, Jane Austen is celebrated for her dry wit. Her novels brim with satire delivered in such an understated, matter-of-fact tone that one might miss the joke if not attentive. As the Jane Austen House Museum notes, Austen “had a dry, wicked sense of humour and her novels are full of satire, comedy and wit” . The virtue of dryness here lies in its sophistication: a dry tone can sharpen irony and social commentary, engaging the reader’s intellect. Similarly, many of Oscar Wilde’s epigrams and Mark Twain’s observations land with more force because they are delivered drily, without overt moralizing. In literary criticism, “dry humor” is often a byword for intelligent, high-level wit.

Beyond humor, a “dry style” in prose – meaning plain, unadorned, and factual writing – is sometimes upheld as a virtue for clarity. Throughout the 20th century, influential authors like Ernest Hemingway exemplified this ideal. Hemingway’s style is famously spare, with minimal adjectives and a focus on simple, declarative sentences. Some critics have noted that his extreme minimalism can “feel too dry or detached,” but many readers and writers revere it for its honesty and strength . The absence of florid language (the “moisture” of purple prose) was seen as a kind of integrity – letting reality speak for itself. Likewise, George Orwell advocated for prose “like a windowpane,” valuing transparency over decorative flourish. This preference in literary circles reflects an ethical aesthetic: dryness in writing signifies precision, truthfulness, and a refusal to manipulate the reader’s emotions cheaply. Even academic and journalistic writing traditionally aimed for a dry, objective tone as a mark of credibility. To be sure, “dry” can be a criticism when it means dull or lifeless. But in many cases, restraint itself is virtuous in literature – an antidote to melodrama. The celebrated modernist dictum “less is more” aligns with this notion: by cutting out excess (wetness), a dry style achieves purity and power.

Religious and Spiritual Symbolism of Dryness

Dryness has deep symbolic value in numerous religious and spiritual traditions, often associated with discipline, purification, and ascetic holiness. A vivid example comes from early Christianity: the Desert Fathers and Mothers of the 4th century. These hermits withdrew into the dry Egyptian desert to seek God, embracing the harsh aridity as a purifying force. The desert’s literal dryness – scarcity of water, searing heat – was thought to strip life down to its spiritual essentials. A description of the Desert monks notes that “Living in the desert required an indifference to its unforgiving harshness. It meant accepting the scarcity of water, a simplicity of diet and an enduring hunger.” In their view, this “dry” deprivation helped cultivate apatheia (holy indifference to worldly comfort) and focused the soul on prayer. The desert climate thus became a crucible of virtue. In Judeo-Christian tradition more broadly, the motif of a “wilderness sojourn” – from Moses’ 40 years to Jesus’ 40 days fasting in the desert – underscores that enduring dryness (both thirst and solitude) is a test of faith that yields spiritual strength.

Fasting practices in many religions explicitly connect physical dryness to virtue. In Islam, during the month of Ramadan, believers abstain from all food and drink during daylight hours – “not even water”, as is often emphasized . This deliberate embrace of thirst is viewed as an act of faith and self-discipline, cultivating gratitude and self-control . The temporary dryness of the throat has spiritual purpose: by denying the body, one elevates the soul. Similarly, Catholic and Orthodox Christians observe “dry fasts” on certain solemn days (for example, some monastics on Good Friday will take no water until evening). In Jainism, extreme ascetics take this to an endpoint – an ideal monk “should bear the discomfort of thirst and should not drink cold water,” training themselves to remain composed despite dryness . Jain literature describes great ascetics who even at the end of life undertake Sallekhana, gradually reducing food and water to nothing – literally drying out the body as a final act of renunciation . While such severity is rare, it exemplifies the notion that purity and holiness are achieved through the elimination of all physical indulgence, water included. Dryness, in this context, equals sanctity.

Metaphorical spiritual dryness is also a well-known theme in mysticism. Saints and sages across traditions speak of periods of “dryness” in prayer – feeling no sweetness or consolation in spiritual practice. Rather than being a vice, enduring this desolation with faith is considered a virtue that leads to deeper growth. Catholic mystic St. Thérèse of Lisieux wrote of her own arid periods, paradoxically calling them “a divine richness in spiritual dryness that produces a marvelous transformation in the soul” . The idea is that God sometimes withholds emotional comfort (leaving the soul “dry”) in order to purify one’s love and trust. Those who persevere through the “dark night of the soul” – like Mother Teresa, who famously experienced decades of interior dryness – are believed to attain a purer, more selfless faith. In this way, dryness is a test and a teacher: it burns away superficial sentiment, instilling patience, humility, and unwavering devotion. Several religious texts use the desert as a metaphor for this inner state. For example, a Christian writer noted, “The human heart can also be a desert”, but it’s in the desert of absence that one learns to long more for the divine . Thus, whether by literal desert or figurative drought, spiritual dryness is seen as a path to higher virtue, teaching detachment from feelings and strengthening the will.

Conclusion: From stoic philosophers to ascetic monks, from the understated comedian to the austere stylist, many have found virtue in “dryness.” This virtue takes different shapes – rational clarity, emotional restraint, abstinence, subtle humor, simplicity of style, spiritual discipline – but in all cases, it involves holding back excess and focusing on essentials. While lushness, passion, and abundance have their place, there is an enduring countercurrent of thought which holds that what is dry, plain, and unembellished can be especially pure and good. In a world often drenched in extravagance and emotion, the various praises of dryness remind us that sometimes, less moisture means more integrity. Each domain we explored echoes the same core insight: by embracing dryness – be it of humor, lifestyle, prose, or spirit – one may cultivate resilience, wisdom, and virtue.

Sources:

  • Bacon, Francis (1625). “Of Friendship.” In Essays – Heraclitus on “dry light” 
  • British Humour and Deadpan Delivery 
  • Morrison, Patt. Los Angeles Times (2022) – Prohibition and going “piously dry” 
  • Jane Austen’s House Museum – “She’s very funny” (Austen’s dry humour) 
  • CatholicExchange (2021). “Spiritual Dryness…” – St. Thérèse on dryness 
  • Dean, Sabreena. Creative Brief (2024). – Ramadan fasting: “not even water” (discipline) 
  • Jainpedia – Ideal ascetic enduring thirst (no water) 
  • Smarthistory – Zen dry rock garden as meditation space