This famous passage from Encheiridion 3 highlights the fact that this handbook is intended for practitioners who are already familiar with Stoic theory and practice. I say that because passages like this one, read in isolation, without an adequate understanding of Stoic teachings, can easily leave one with the wrong impression. In fact, absent the larger context of Stoic theory and practice, this passage, in particular, can appear inhumane or even pathological, and has turned people away from Stoic practice. As Lawrence Becker, the late professor of philosophy at the College of William and Mary points out:
The image of the austere, dispassionate, detached, tranquil, and virtually affectless sage – an image destined to be self-refuting – has become a staple of anti-Stoic philosophy, literature, and popular culture. It has been constructed from incautious use of the ancient texts and is remarkably resistant to correction.[1]
However, when we place a passage like this within the full context of Stoic theory and practice, the caricatures conjured up by these incautious interpretations are easily dismissed. By focusing on several key words and phrases used in this passage, we can see this is simply another, more advanced, application of the distinction between what is up to us and not up to us. So, let’s dissect this passage, place it in context, and see if a different picture of Stoic practice emerges. First, we need to consider three important phrases in Encheiridion 3. Epictetus offers three different categories of things. In summation, these categories include everything that attracts us or has its uses or that we are fond of in life. Let’s take a look at each of them:
- A thing that “attracts you” (ψυχαγωγούντων) – amusement (Discourses 2.16.37); fascination (Discourses 3.21.23); entertainment (Discourses 4.4.4).
- A thing that “has its uses” (χρείαν) – useful; can be used or put into service. This Greek word is used more than one hundred times in the Discourses and Encheiridion combined.
- A thing “you are fond of” (στεργομένων) – love, affection. A form of this Greek word is used eleven times in the Discourses and Encheiridion. It is used six times in Epictetus’ lesson on family affection (Discourses 1.11).
It is important to consider the broad range of external things these three categories include because it helps us understand the meaning of this passage and avoid a mischaracterization of Stoicism this passage frequently evokes. First, it includes external things we find amusing, fascinating, or entertaining. This may be a television, computer, or another electronic device that provides mindless entertainment; it may also be a beautiful painting or another piece of artwork we admire; or it could be a collection of coins, stamps, dolls, trinkets, etc. This list is nearly endless. Next, are those things we may find useful or of service. Again, many things come to mind: a favorite coffee cup, a smartphone, computer or tablet, car, house, a comfortable chair, etc. Once again, the list of things that fall into this category is extremely long. Finally, we have those things for which we feel love or affection.
Wait a second! Did Epictetus say love and affection? To be precise, Epictetus uses a Greek word that is typically translated as “fondness,” as it is here. However, the Greek root for this word means love or affection.[2] Interestingly, the fondness in this passage is directed exclusively at people. Specifically, this passage directs fondness toward our children or spouse. This highlights a sense of feeling and connection with loved ones that many mistakenly believe is absent in Stoicism. As we will see later, the image of the unfeeling, detached Stoic is a mischaracterization.
This brings us to another extremely important aspect of this passage that is essential for the deconstruction of this mischaracterization and the development of a proper understanding of this frequently misunderstood passage. As already noted, this passage deals with a broad range of things—externals—in our lives. What is easily overlooked in this passage is the existence of a hierarchy from the most trivial of things, like a jug, up to those things for which we have a genuine love or affection—spouses and children. It is a gross misunderstanding of Stoic theory to suggest our affinity for a spouse or child should be comparable to our affinity for a jug. The Stoics certainly do place all of these things in the same category of preferred indifferents and teach us not to be “troubled” by the loss of any of them. Nevertheless, as this passage makes clear, there is a natural dissimilarity between our affinity for things that amuse us, entertain us, and are useful to us and those humans that are closest to us in our circle of affinity (oikeiosis).[3] In reference to Encheiridion 3, Brad Inwood argues, Epictetus “is not, of course, advocating utter indifference to one’s loved ones” any more than Chrysippus was “advocating indifference to one’s health” in the fragment preserved in Discourses 2.6.9-10. Additionally, Inwood argues:
It must be remembered that this readiness for setbacks does not rule out determined efforts and actions to achieve one’s proper goals: staying healthy, keeping one’s children alive, executing the various plans and actions which make up a life of appropriate actions. But in the uncertainty of a human life, all these actions and plans, which are or depend on forms of impulse, should be carried out with the addition of reservation. In this way one may attain the smooth flow of life which is characterized by consistency with oneself and with the will of Zeus.[4]
In fact, in Discourses 1.11, which addresses the topic of family affection, Epictetus makes it quite clear that “family affection accompanied by reason” is in accordance with Nature. That lesson takes the form of a dialog between Epictetus and a government official who claims his affection for his little daughter forced him to leave her presence when she was sick. He claimed he could not bear seeing his daughter suffer. By the end of the dialog, Epictetus leads the official to understand he left his daughter during her time of need because of his wrong judgment about what is appropriate rather than his affection for her. I encourage everyone to read and consider Discourses 1.11. It presents a case for familial love and affection that is frequently overshadowed by the misleading caricatures of Stoics derived from passages like this one in Encheiridion 3. Discourses 1.11 places challenging passages like Encheiridion 3 and Discourses 3.24.88 into context. In that latter passage, Epictetus instructs:
From now on, whenever you take delight in anything, call to mind the opposite impression; what harm is there in your saying beneath your breath as you’re kissing your child, ‘Tomorrow you’ll die’? Or similarly to your friend, ‘Tomorrow you’ll go abroad, or I will, and we’ll never see one another again.’ (Discourses 3.24.88)
Again, it is wholly inaccurate to suggest this passage teaches Stoics to be indifferent toward their loved ones. Instead, Epictetus is encouraging us to accept the true nature of human existence—it is fragile and temporal. Likewise, this passage serves as a reminder to practice premeditatio malorum because things break, people die, and events frequently do not turn out as we intend. Why should we practice envisioning the loss of possessions, the onset of dispreferred circumstances, and the death of loved ones? Because that practice helps to keep us on the path toward true freedom. To be free, we must disconnect our well-being from anything that is not up to us. As we learned in the last episode, to act otherwise is an attempt to claim authority over that which is not up to us, and that path leads us into slavery to externals, which produces a troubled mind.
A Troubled Mind
The whole point of Encheiridion 3 is to avoid a troubled mind by understanding and accepting the true nature of all external things and our lack of control over them. Jugs break and loved ones die. That is the normal operation of nature. To expect something different is unwise. The Greek word translated as “troubled” (ταραχθήσῃ) is used eight times within five passages of the Encheiridion. Two of those instances are here in chapter three. The use of that Greek word in the Encheiridion highlights the distinction between the psychological state of true freedom and that of a troubled mind.
Ench 1 – if we seek those things not up to us, we will be troubled
Ench 3 – if we do not consider the true nature of things, we will be troubled
Ench 5 – it is our opinions about things and events that trouble us
Ench 12 – if we base our well-being on the outcome of our actions, we will be troubled
Ench 28 – if we allow the insults of others to affect our mind, we will be troubled
Each of these passages emphasizes the dichotomy between what is and is not up to us. The Stoic path requires us to understand that all externals—whether we seek them for entertainment, their usefulness, or love and affection—are outside of our control; they are not up to us. TVs, computers, smartphones, collectibles, beautiful and awe-inspiring artifacts, our favorite coffee cup, and family heirlooms can be broken, burned, lost, or stolen. Likewise, those people for whom we feel natural love and affection can become sick and die. Therefore, we set ourselves up for failure and psychological distress when we desire any of these things as goods and seek them as sources of happiness (well-being). Stoicism does not teach us to deny ourselves any of these preferred indifferents. Instead, Stoic practice trains us seek our good in one thing alone—our moral excellence (virtue), because it is only through the development of virtue that we can find true freedom and well-being.
Most people intuitively understand and agree with the idea that things cannot make us happy. However, when Epictetus teaches us to apply the same logic to those humans we love and feel affection toward, many people balk. That is likely because it can appear harsh, coldhearted, callous, or even pathological at first glance. However, when we look beyond the natural emotions that even a Stoic will have in response to the loss of a loved one, we can begin to understand why the same logic must be applied to all externals. Humans are mortal; they die. Moreover, we cannot control our friends, family, spouses, and children—they are not up to us. They may leave or abandon us for their own reasons. If our well-being is contingent upon their presence in our lives, we have set ourselves up for failure and psychological distress—a troubled mind. We can love them and feel affection for them; however, we must not rely on them for our psychological well-being.
Conclusion
I close this episode with a passage from an exceptional book titled Stoicism and Emotion by Margaret Graver, professor of classics at Dartmouth College. She writes:
It is with this point in mind that we should read Epictetus’s advice to love other people in full awareness of their mortality. Just as one can be fond of a vase or goblet and yet not be devastated if such a fragile thing should happen to break, so, says Epictetus, one should train oneself to love a child, a sibling, or a friend without unrealistic expectations, remembering that death is a regular fact of human life.[5]
ENDNOTES
[1] Becker, L. C. (2004). Stoic Emotion. In Stoicism: Traditions and Transformations (pp. 250–275). New York: Cambridge University Press, p. 250
[2] Liddell, H. G., & Scott, R. (Eds.). (1945). An Intermediate Greek-English Lexicon: Founded upon the Seventh Edition of Liddell and Scott’s Greek-English Lexicon (7 edition). Oxford: Oxford University Press, p. 744
[3] See Hierocles circles of expanding affinity.
[4] Inwood, B. (1985). Ethics and Human Action in Early Stoicism. New York: Oxford University Press, p. 124
[5] Graver, M. (2007). Stoicism and Emotion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, pp. 177-8
