Uneducated people blame others when they are doing badly. Those whose education is underway blame themselves. But a fully educated person blames no one, neither himself nor anyone else. (Ench 5)
In Episode 35, I covered the first part of Encheiridion 5, where Epictetus added death to the list of things outside of our full control and, therefore, not inherently bad. If you’ve listened to Stoicism on Fire for a while or read my Traditional Stoicism blog, you likely understand this concept, which is frequently called the Dichotomy of Control, and you’ve probably been attempting to adopt this Stoic mindset toward externals. However, understanding this concept intellectually and putting it into practice are entirely different things.
The practice of Stoicism is hard. I have been at it diligently for ten years, and I occasionally feel like a complete beginner. I understand the Stoic doctrines; I had a firm grasp of those within a couple of years. But, the goal of Stoicism is perfect practice, not perfect doctrinal knowledge. Perfect practice is the ideal of Stoicism. That is the standard attributed to the Sage and one none of us are likely to achieve. Which begs the question, “What then is the point of Stoic practice?” The answer, of course, is progress. Even though we will likely never arrive at the level of wisdom the Sage possesses, we can make progress toward that ideal.
In the second part of Encheiridion 5, Epictetus outlines a three-step progression by placing all people into one of three categories: the uneducated, those whose education is underway, and finally, those whose education is complete. I think it is vital for us to understand these categories and their implication for our Stoic practice.
Before we get into the categories, it is essential to note that education for the Stoics was more than memorization of doctrines. Education meant training (askesis). The Stoic training regimen required the student to put Stoic principles into practice. In other words, the distinction in Encheiridion 5 is not between those who are entirely ignorant of Stoic doctrines and those who memorized them all and can recite them at will. Epictetus infers more than book knowledge in this passage. We could relabel these categories as follows:
- those who are untrained in Stoic practice,
- those whose training in Stoic practice is underway,
- those who have completed their Stoic training and are completely wise—the Sage.
Now, let’s consider these categories in a little more detail. Pay attention to the observable behavioral characteristics Epictetus provides for each of these categories.
The uneducated person lives his or her life desiring and seeking things that are not within their complete control (wealth, pleasure, fame, political power, a good reputation, etc.). Simultaneously, they fear and attempt to avoid other things beyond their complete control (poverty, pain, obscurity, death, etc.). Now, here’s the behavioral characteristic of the uneducated person: When they are doing badly, they blame others.
The uneducated blame others when they are not getting what they desire and getting what they fear instead. If you doubt this truth, turn on the news for a few minutes. You will observe an endless parade of uneducated people who are angry because they don’t have what they think they deserve to make them happy. They frequently claim to be victims of circumstances or someone else’s bad behavior, and think others have the power to make them happy or miserable. Marcus described them in Meditations 2.1 as “ungrateful, violent, treacherous, envious, and unsociable people.” Then, he proposes that he remind himself each morning that these are the people he will encounter during the day. Marcus continues this passage by noting the reason uneducated people behave this way:
They are subject to all these defects because they have no knowledge of good and bad. (Meditation 2.1)
The uneducated seek well-being in externals that are not within their complete control because they don’t know what is truly good (a virtuous character) and truly bad (a vicious character). In Encheiridion 1, Epictetus told us what happens when people desire and fear externals: they will be pained, frustrated, and troubled, and they will blame gods and men.
When we see “ungrateful, violent, treacherous, envious, and unsociable people” on the news or in public, we need to remind ourselves why they are that way. They are uneducated. They may be knowledgeable about many things. They may be college-educated. They may even have a Ph.D., but, as Marcus notes, they have no knowledge of good and bad. Therefore, they are angry that they are doing badly in life and believe the fault lies outside themselves. They think they are unhappy because society is unfair, unjust, or otherwise organized in a way that makes them a victim of circumstances.
Let me offer a word of caution here. Marcus’ words about these uneducated people can take us in two directions attitudinally. We can use Meditations 2.1 to judge people because they have no knowledge of good and bad. Or, we can have compassion for them because they have no knowledge of good and bad. I have no doubt Marcus intended the latter when he wrote Meditations 2.1. That was his character. We need to use this reminder in the same way when we encounter ungrateful, violent, treacherous, envious, and unsociable people.
As you likely know from listening to the podcast, I’m a law enforcement officer. I’m a detective now, but I started my career on the street in a tough, low-income, crime-infested area. What I experienced on the street drove me to seek out Stoicism more than a decade ago. Early in my Stoic training, I learned a practice called hypomnemata from my mentor. Essentially, that is what Marcus was doing when he wrote his journal, which we now call his Meditations. Hypomnemata can take various forms; one form is rewriting Stoic passages to personalize them for yourself. As you might imagine, Mediations 2.1 has special significance for anyone in law enforcement. Daily, the profession entails dealing with ungrateful, violent, treacherous, envious, and unsociable people. One of the hardest things for any cop to do is to maintain their humanity while they are submerged in the inhumane behavior of others. For that reason, in 2012, I personalized and rewrote Meditations 2.1 for my purposes as a law enforcement officer. I hope it expresses the message I’m attempting to deliver here. Namely, we need to have some compassion for the uneducated:
When you are face-to-face with criminal behavior, remind yourself this person’s vice-inclined character is not entirely their making. They are morally responsible for their actions; however, the web of prior causes which formed their immoral character includes many causal agents and events—the actions and neglect of their parents, the culture of their community, tragedies they did not cause, and the zeitgeist of a society which fills their soul with anger and hatred toward others they blame for their circumstances. This person is both a perpetrator and a victim of the vice-inclined character, which drives their behavior. Remember, they are a human being—they share in the same divine mind as you. They are ignorant of the true nature of good and bad and have not learned to discipline their desires and fears. Temporarily remove them from society—your role requires that of you. However, do not judge them as evil; they cannot touch your soul.
I encourage you to try hypomnemata using Meditations 2.1 as a model. Maybe your ungrateful, violent, treacherous, envious, and unsociable people are customers. Perhaps they are your students, coworkers, or your mother-in-law. You get the idea. Use Mediations 2.1 to help you withhold judgment from the impression these people can harm your soul and to remember they share in the same divine mind as you.
Okay, that’s enough about the uneducated person. Now we’re going to contrast that with the person whose education is underway. This is the Prokopton, who is actively attempting to put Stoic principles into practice in their life. They are beginning to distinguish correctly between what is good and bad for their character. They understand that many things and events they used to consider good, like good health, a high-paying job, other people’s opinion of them, etc., are only preferred indifferents that do not affect their moral character or good flow in life. Likewise, they understand many things and events they formerly considered bad, are dispreferred indifferents that do not affect their moral character or good flow in life. The prokopton understands it is possible to have a good flow in life even while living in poverty, pain, or circumstances restricting their liberty. They might prefer circumstances to be otherwise, but they do not count on them for their good flow in life.
The person whose training is underway understands moral excellence (virtue) is the only good, and moral vice is the only truly bad thing. They accept responsibility for their well-being because they know it does not depend on anyone else or any external circumstances. Therefore, when they are out of step with Nature and experiencing emotional distress, they know they are the only ones to blame for their unhappiness. They are far from perfect in their practice of Stoicism; however, they are paying attention to their desires, assents, and impulses to act. They are on the path of the Stoic prokopton, making progress toward the ideal of the wise Stoic Sage.
Finally, we come to the educated person who does not blame anyone when things appear to be going badly. Why? Because, as Keith Seddon notes,
The fully wise person whose Stoic training is complete will never be in a position to blame anyone at all (not even themselves), because this person has secured a ‘good flow’ (euroia) that is stable and enduring – they simply do not assent to false evaluations, but pass through life calmly accepting and responding appropriately to every circumstance, such that nothing ever happens to occasion blame.[1]
Simplicius wrote something similar about the educated person in his commentary on the Encheiridion:
They never get into any situation that is bad for them (properly speaking), either through their own doing – given that they have been educated –or through others –because they do not locate their bad in external things.[2]
I will be the first to admit, that is not me. I still blame others sometimes when things go badly for me. Why? Because occasionally, I still desire things and fear things that are beyond my complete control. I wrongly judge them as good or bad, rather than labeling them as preferred and dispreferred indifferents. I’m not a sage; I’m not perfect. However, I know my education is underway because in the aftermath of these events, after I’ve had time to consider why I’m angry or frustrated, I always realize the blame is solely mine.
I assume everyone listening to this podcast falls into that second category with me. Our education (training) is underway. The uneducated are certainly not listening to this podcast, and the fully educated Sage, if one exists at present, does not need this podcast.
Now, we can begin to answer the vital question, “How should we train so we can make progress?” I believe there are two important lessons about Stoic training in this passage. The first lesson is explicitly stated; the second lesson comes from the Discourses of Epictetus and provides a necessary supplement to the first.
Lesson I
We must hold ourselves accountable for any psychological distress we experience. There are no exceptions to this rule. We must pay diligent attention (prosoche) to our judgments, desires, aversions, and intentions to act. Then, when we feel any distress, we must accept responsibility for it and attempt to uncover its source. One way to accomplish this is through self-evaluation. When we feel frustrated, angry, etc., we can self-evaluate by asking why we are experiencing these particular emotions under these circumstances. Self-evaluation is admittedly hard because we are masters at hiding from the source of our psychological distress. Nevertheless, here are a few questions you can consider asking yourself at times like this. They may just make you aware of the source of your angst.
- Am I desiring something I do not have complete control over?
- Am I afraid of something I do not have the power to avoid?
- Am I judging things and events without considering them from the cosmic viewpoint?
- Am I behaving in a manner inconsistent with my philosophical principles?
These are just a few examples of questions we can ask ourselves to get to the heart of the matter.
Marcus Aurelius provided us with an inspiring example of someone whose education was underway. He documented his shortcomings, self-evaluations, and recommendations for his philosophical therapy. As we read Marcus’ struggles within the pages of his Meditations, one thing becomes clear. The Stoic path toward moral excellence is not an easy one to tread. It was not easy for Marcus, and it will not be so for us. We cannot simply extract wisdom from ancient Stoic writings and distill them into simple psychological principles or easily digestible mind-hacks. It’s not that easy. The Stoic path, which leads toward the lofty goal of moral excellence and a good flow in life, is difficult, and it entails a lifetime of training and practice. And I’ll repeat the bad news. It is highly improbable any of us will attain the level of wisdom necessary to be a Sage and thereby experience complete well-being. Although we may never reach Sagehood, we can develop a level of moral excellence that dramatically reduces the anxiety, frustration, and disharmony in our lives. We can take complete responsibility for our character and our intentions. We can become a Marcus, a Seneca, Epictetus, or Musonius Rufus. If you’re not convinced that is a worthy goal, consider this: How much better would our families, communities, universities, governments be if people like that were operating within them? We don’t have to be Sages to affect change in the cosmopolis; as Stoic Prokoptons, we are more than qualified to engage with the world at some level and attempt to make it a better place. That is our duty.
If you listened to the Path of the Prokopton series of this podcast, you already know what is required to make progress on the Stoic path. However, knowing and doing are not the same thing. Musonius Rufus, the teacher of Epictetus, makes that abundantly clear in his lecture titled On Training. Musonius compares and then contrasts training in the arts of music and medicine with the practice of philosophy. This passage is from his lecture:
Virtue, he said, is not simply theoretical knowledge, but it is practical application as well, just like the arts of medicine and music. Therefore, as the physician and the musician not only must master the theoretical side of their respective arts but must also train themselves to act according to their principles, so a man who wishes to become good not only must be thoroughly familiar with the precepts which are conducive to virtue but must also be earnest and zealous in applying these principles.[3]
In this passage, Musonius highlights three similarities between the musician, physician, and philosopher:
- All three must learn precepts before they can practice effectively.
- All three disciplines require more than just theoretical knowledge.
- Each of these disciplines requires earnest and zealous application of the appropriate principles.
Imagine you are getting married and looking for a pianist to play the processional during your wedding. The wedding processional is certainly not Beethoven’s Hammerklavier, but this is your wedding day, and you want it played perfectly. Would you hire someone who spent the last two years reading music theory but never touched the keys of a piano? Of course not. They may have a complete theoretical understanding of key signatures, time signatures, and rhythmic notation and still not be able to play “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Likewise, suppose you’re lying on a hospital bed writhing in agony from a burst appendix. In that case, you want someone who can do more than explain the various viral, bacterial, and parasitic causes of appendicitis. You want someone who has experience performing appendectomies. The famous commercial line, “No, but I slept in a Holiday Inn Express last night,” simply will not do.
The same is true for the practice of philosophy. I’ll repeat Musonius’ words:
…a [person] who wishes to become good not only must be thoroughly familiar with the precepts which are conducive to virtue but must also be earnest and zealous in applying these principles.[4]
If you’ve listened to most Stoicism on Fire episodes, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. However, this explicit lesson from Encheiridion 5 entails another lesson from the Discourses, which I believe is equally important to our practice of Stoicism.
Lesson II
I don’t care where you are on the Stoic path. Unless you’re a Sage, you’ve hit some roadblocks in Stoic practice, and you’ve stumbled on the path a few times. If you’re like me, you’ve probably asked, “Why does this have to be so hard? Why do I continue to experience setbacks in my Stoic practice? Why is it taking so long to make substantial progress along the Stoic path?” Are you with me? I do ask those questions occasionally. I’m guessing you do as well.
Fortunately, Musonius Rufus provides us with some profound insight on this topic. After highlighting the similarities between practice in the arts of music, medicine, and philosophy, he makes a critically important distinction between them. He notes that the musician does not learn to be a bad musician before training to be a good musician. Neither does the doctor learn to be a bad doctor before training in the art of good medicine. As Musonius points out, aspiring musicians and doctors have not had “their souls corrupted beforehand and have not learned the opposite of what they are going to be taught…” On the other hand, he points out:
…the ones who start out to study philosophy have been born and reared in an environment filled with corruption and evil, and therefore turn to virtue in such a state that they need a longer and more thorough training.[5]
Boom! That passage hit me in the face like a roundhouse punch from Mohammad Ali.
As obvious as that statement is, it escaped me until I was preparing for this episode of Stoicism on Fire. WOW! That explains why Stoic practice is so hard, and progress is achieved so slowly and requires so much effort. We come to philosophy with a corrupted psyche. Therefore, we need a longer and more thorough training process than is necessary to master the arts of music or medicine.
Like many of you, I came to Stoicism with several decades of corruption under my belt. I’m not talking about illegality or extreme immorality, and neither is Musonius. He is pointing out the fact that our psyche is corrupted by living in a world that teaches us to seek happiness in externals like money, power, fame, sex, reputation, etc. We were taught to pursue well-being in the wrong way by desiring and fearing the wrong things. Like I said in the last episode, we learned those lessons well. I know I did. I became an expert at seeking and frequently obtaining preferred indifferents, like money, career success, honors, etc. I thought my happiness depended on acquiring these things. Therefore, it’s pretty reasonable that several decades of seeking and avoiding the wrong things created a deep emotional attachment to those indifferents. That is the corrupted psyche to which Musonius is referring. Unfortunately, as Simplicius points out, when we enter Stoic training, “our irrational emotions do not always immediately become measured and harmonious and subordinated to reason”[6] as we would like. He further notes,
This is especially so when, through the laziness and lethargy of reason and the continuous motion of irrationality, the emotions have become muscular and tyrannical.[7]
When we begin our Stoic practice, it is easy to overlook that we spent years, often decades, living and thinking wrongly about the world in general and what we should seek and avoid specifically. We typically come to Stoicism with what Simplicius calls muscular and tyrannical emotions that control our psyche. We also fail to consider how difficult it will be to overthrow these muscular tyrants. Then, when we discover this task will not be easy, we can become disheartened and may start to think Stoicism is not up to the task. The problem does not lie with Stoic theory and practice; we simply underestimated our opponent—the irrational thoughts, desires, and aversions that corrupted our psyche. Again, overcoming them is not an easy task. As Marcus notes, each of us must “Struggle to remain such a person as philosophy wished to make you.” (Meditations 6.30)
By now, you get the point. The Stoic path is hard. It’s a struggle to overcome the irrational thinking fostered over years and decades. Nevertheless, you may be asking, “What should I do when I inevitably fail in my practice?” “How do I carry on when I keep getting the snot knocked out of me by life events I misinterpret as bad?” Here’s how. Recognize that you came to the steps of the Stoa with a corrupted psyche controlled by muscular tyrants. Then, accept this harsh reality: it will take a lot of time and a significant amount of continued, diligent effort to overthrow those muscular and tyrannical emotions which still influence your psyche and affect your well-being.
Then, when you get knocked down, and you will, you have a choice. You can lie there on the ground and whine about it. You can play the victim and blame your parents, spouse, friends, society, or even the cosmos for your problems. You can say, “This is too hard; I quit.” Alternatively, you can get back up and take responsibility for your disquieted mind. Say to yourself, “So what? I got knocked down by wrongly attaching a judgment to an impression, and it temporarily created an emotional disturbance.” Take a moment or two to consider the lesson and let it sink in, but don’t beat yourself up. Once you’ve had your moment of introspection, shrug your shoulders and recall the famous line from Forrest Gump, “It happens.” Remember, we grow by facing challenges. As Seneca wrote in his book On Providence,
“Fire proves gold; misery, brave [men and women]” (5.9)
As Epictetus points out in Discourses 3.25, we are engaged in the “greatest of contests” which offers the reward of “good fortune and happiness itself.” Therefore, as he notes, “we must be prepared also to take blows.” Epictetus understood his students would experience setbacks on their path, so he offered some further advice we need to firmly implant in our minds. He said,
In this contest, even if we should falter for a while, no one can prevent us from resuming the fight, nor is it necessary to wait another four years for the next Olympic Games to come around, but as soon as one has recovered and regained one’s strength, and can muster the same zeal as before, one can enter the fight; and if one should fail again, one can enter once again, and if one should carry off the victory one fine day, it will be as if one had never given in. (ibid)
What is Epictetus telling us? If you get knocked down, get up. Don’t wait; get up immediately. If you get knocked to the floor again, get up again. If you continue to get up each time you get knocked down, you may just carry off the victory one fine day. As I noted in episode 9 of Stoicism on Fire, we need to focus our attention (prososche) on the impressions directly in front of us at each moment. Yes, we aim at the perfection of the Stoic Sage; however, our primary focus must be on “attention, not perfection.” We will fall short of philosophy’s demands. However, if we understand that stumbling and getting knocked down occasionally is part of the Stoic training process, we will not stay down. We will get back up, get back in the fight, and continue to make progress. Marcus Aurelius experienced setbacks in his philosophical practice. That is why he reminded himself of the following:
You should not be disgusted, or lose heart, or give up if you are not wholly successful in accomplishing every action according to correct principles, but when you are thwarted, return to the struggle, and be well contented if for the most part your actions are worthier of human Nature. Love that to which you are returning, and come back to philosophy not as to a schoolteacher, but as those with sore eyes turn to a sponge and white of egg, and another patient to a poultice, and another to fomentations. For in that way, you will not merely make a show of obeying reason, but you will find your rest in it. And remember this, that philosophy wishes nothing other than what your Nature wishes, whereas you were wishing for something else which is not in accordance with Nature. Now what could be more delightful than to follow Nature? (Meditations 5.9)
I close with a thought from Simplicius’ commentary on the Encheiridion,
Education is strictly speaking the correction of the child in us by the teacher in us. The irrationality within us is a child: it does not see the beneficial, but is only directed towards pleasure, like children. Our reason is a teacher: it constantly instils harmony and measure into the irrational desires in us, and directs them towards the beneficial.[8]
Be patient with the child in you as you travel the path of the Stoic prokopton. Train yourself to be a better teacher. Wise teachers expect children to fail at times. That’s part of the training process. Be patient with others as well. Remember the words of Marcus:
They are subject to all these defects because they have no knowledge of good and bad. (Meditation 2.1)
The uneducated are controlled by muscular and tyrannical emotions they have not yet even begun to tame. Have some compassion for them; you and I were once just like them, and we still are on occasion when our muscular and tyrannical emotions are triggered by life events and get the best of us. During the last couple of years, life has presented all of us with some significant challenges. Did you get knocked down? I did. That’s life. Get up and get back on the Stoic path with me. Let’s continue to make progress together.
I leave you with this promise. I am fully confident the Stoics were correct on this topic. If we continually get back up each time we are knocked down, we will continue to develop an excellent character and make progress toward well-being.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Seddon, K. (2005). Epictetus’ Handbook and the Tablet of Cebes: Guides to Stoic Living. Routledge, p. 54
[2] Brennan, T., & Brittain, C. (2002). Simplicius: On Epictetus’ Handbook 1-26. Cornell University Press. p. 74
[3] Rufus, M. (2020). That One Should Disdain Hardships: The Teachings of a Roman Stoic (C. E. Lutz, Ed.). Yale University Press. p. 25
[4] Ibid
[5] Ibid, p. 26
[6] Brennan, T., & Brittain, C. (2002). Simplicius: On Epictetus’ Handbook 1-26. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, p. 73
[7] Ibid
[8] Ibid, p. 74
