Don’t ask for things to happen as you would like them to, but wish them to happen as they actually do, and you will be all right. (Ench 8)
This passage, and several other similar passages within the Stoic texts, present a huge, sometimes insurmountable, stumbling block for many people when they begin to study and practice Stoicism. As Simplicius notes in his commentary on this passage:
But perhaps this injunction to ‘wish for it to happen as it happens’ will seem to some people to be harsh and impossible. What right thinking human being wishes for the occurrence of the widespread bad effects resulting from the universe – for instance, earthquakes, deluges, conflagrations, plagues, famine and the destruction of all sorts of animals and crops? Or the impious deeds performed by some human beings on others – the sacking of cities, taking prisoners of war, unjust killings, piracy, kidnapping, licentiousness, and tyranni cal force, culminating in compelled acts of impiety? …These things and others of this sort – of which there has been an excess in our own lifetime – who would want to hear of them, let alone see them, take part in them or ‘wish them to happen as they happen’, except a malevolent person and a hater of all that is fine?[1]
Within the last month, I responded to emails from two Stoicism on Fire listeners who expressed concern about this concept in Stoicism. I will keep the identity of those listeners anonymous. However, I’m going to use the content of those emails to help express a concern that is likely shared by others. The first is from a man who wrote:
I am hoping you may be able to help me with something which has been a source of some vexation to me. I have been studying philosophy for most of my adult life and Stoicism is something I came to in the last 5-years or so. The problem I have is to do with the discipline of assent.
It seems that what the Stoic wants is to dispense with the value judgement part of the impression. The idea seems to be that whatever is not in my control is to be expunged by simply not assenting to it. Now, I can perfectly see the argument that when a driver cuts me up or someone says something insulting to me, I may want to remove my value judgements to preserve my equanimity. All perfectly obvious. But what you seem to be saying is that any value judgement based on something not in my control, should be “deleted” from the impression, in order to preserve my equanimity. I’m afraid I find this absurd.
Suppose you find yourself in a situation where one of your children has been taken hostage by a terrorist and is being threatened with a knife. There is a high probability that something terrible will happen, but according to the discipline of assent, you will need to delete the value judgement (which any normal father would have) that my child is in danger!!. Having thus deleted the value judgement, you can observe events unfolding from your “Inner Citadel” completely unperturbed.
The second email was from a woman, who wrote:
I have been reading the Stoics for many years. They have served as my substitute for religion, my preferred cognitive therapy. However my major reservation is that Stoicism does not provide an adequate answer or comfort in times of personal or global tragedy or suffering. When something horrible happens to someone, how can we respond by saying we will things as they are, we will things to happen as they have? Stoicism does not provide a good answer to the natural human emotional response to personal tragedy. It does not appear to accept that it is ok to feel the natural emotional anguish that comes with personal tragedy. I have always seen this as the major weakness.
A show on this could be helpful, i.e., how does Stoicism dictate that the practitioner should react to a personal tragedy in their life, and does this make sense? Is it rational to expect sentient human beings to react to tragedy by saying, yes, I will things to happen as they have?
Well, here’s the episode you asked for; I hope it helps you with this challenging question about Stoic practice.
First, I will say: I fully understand the sentiments of both listeners; I had similar thoughts about this concept when I first approached Stoicism. I suspect most of my listeners reacted similarly to passages like Encheiridion 8 when they first encountered them. Moreover, I’m sure some of you are still struggling with the idea that you should not judge tragedy as “bad” but wish for things to happen as they do instead. Many people will find this mindset wholly unacceptable and abandon Stoicism entirely or ignore this aspect of Stoic practice.
For many people, this aspect of Stoicism is counterintuitive because they are judging it, consciously or unconsciously, from the perspective of a worldview that is not compatible with Stoicism. As A. A. Long and other scholars of Stoicism have pointed out, several aspects of Stoicism are counterintuitive apart from the theological worldview the Stoics relied on to create their philosophical way of life.
For that reason, I think it will be helpful to consider this difficult aspect of Stoicism using the concerns expressed by these two listeners. I want to make it clear I am not criticizing these listeners. Quite the opposite, I hope to help them, and many others like them, to navigate this difficult aspect of Stoicism. To that extent, I want to thank them for expressing their concern to me and allowing me to address it for the benefit of others who may be concerned about the same thing.
The first letter juxtaposes two scenarios. The first includes two relatively trivial incidents: a driver who cuts him off in traffic and someone who offers a personal insult. The second scenario involves a terrorist who is holding his daughter hostage at knifepoint. Obviously, to any rational person, there is a considerable difference in the degree of perceived loss between these scenarios. Only our ego is in play in the first case, and we will likely forget about the incident within minutes or hours. In the second, the life of a beloved daughter is at risk, and her loss could affect the loving father for the remainder of his life.
Therefore, a reasonable response to these threats should be proportional to the potential loss. To that end, most people would consider it reasonable to use deadly force to stop the terrorist from harming the woman. Alternatively, it would be unreasonable and irrational to run the bad driver off the road for cutting you off. Likewise, punching, stabbing, or shooting someone who offended you with a personal insult would be a disproportionate and unreasonable response. Our laws are typically codified to prevent the later extreme reaction. On the other hand, laws typically protect those who use deadly force to save their own life or the life of another from an imminent threat of death.
The second listener’s email expresses a similar concern more generically. She asks if it is rational for “sentient human beings to react to tragedy by saying, yes, I will things to happen as they have?”
As we’ve seen from the commentary by Simplicius, these sentiments represent a common concern about Stoicism. So, if this is a common concern, how does Stoicism resolve it? How is it reasonable for the Stoics to tell us we should wish for what happens even when what happens is an apparent tragedy?
I think there are two principles of Stoic doctrine at play here. The first is the difference between what is up to us and, therefore, truly “good” and “bad” for us as practicing Stoics. The second principle entails trust in a providentially ordered cosmos.
The Well-Being Balance Scale
For every event that occurs in our lives, even those we commonly consider tragic, we must begin with Encheiridion 1 and remind ourselves what is up to us and what is not up to us. Any event that is not up to us is an indifferent. No matter how tragic the event may appear, it does not affect our moral character (virtue) because it is external to our proairesis—our rational faculty, which is up to us and allows us to judge the event as good or bad.
Remember, Stoicism teaches us our good character (arete, virtue) is necessary and sufficient for our well-being. Nothing but virtue is needed, and nothing else contributes to or detracts from our well-being. If we lose sight of this fundamental principle of Stoicism, nothing else in our practice will work, and we will not be alright. Therefore, the most common and typically the first mistake we make when apparent tragedy occurs is placing indifferents on the wrong side of the well-being balance scale.
For this to make sense, I need you to visualize one of those old-fashioned balance scales. The ones where you put a known, calibrated weight on one side and the substance you want to weigh on the other side. The scale balances when the weights are the same. I will call this a well-being scale because we will imagine using it to weigh things of value to our well-being. I used this imagery in Episode 6 on the topic of what is up to us.
The common conception of happiness would have us stack as many preferred indifferents, like wealth, good health, a good reputation, a great job, excellent life partner, etc., on one side of the scale and hope they outweigh any of the dispreferred indifferents, like poverty, illness, etc., that come into our life. The Stoics argue this approach to life can never create well-being. Why? Because it makes our well-being dependent upon externals that are not up to us.
That is why the Stoics took a different approach to well-being. The Stoics argue the virtues—wisdom, justice, courage, and moderation, are the only things entirely up to us; therefore, our well-being should depend on virtue alone. As a result, the Stoic practitioner must use the well-being scale differently. Stoicism teaches us to place all externals—that includes preferred and dispreferred indifferents—no matter how seemingly pleasurable or painful they may be on the same side of the well-being scale. Why? Because the only thing allowed on the other side of the well-being scale is the virtues.
We make a fundamental mistake when we place externals—preferred or dispreferred indifferents—on the same side of the well-being balance scale as those things upon which our well-being depends—the virtues. Bad drivers, personal insults, the actions of terrorists, and personal tragedy of any kind, even our death, are not up to us. Therefore, they are dispreferred indifferents, which means they do not have the capacity in and of themselves to affect our moral character (arete or virtue) and well-being (eudaimonia or happiness). They are not “bad.” The only things that are up to us and therefore can affect our charter and well-being are our value judgments, desires and aversions, and impulses to act.
Here’s the good news, according to the Stoics. Virtue has infinitely more value than indifferents. Therefore, virtue tips the well-being scale to well-being (eudaimonia) no matter how many dispreferred indifferents of even the most tragic kind we stack on the other side of the scale.
Now, let’s take another look at those common concerns as expressed in the two emails. Admittedly, there is a vast difference in perceived value between dispreferred indifferents like a personal insult or the rude behavior of a bad driver and the loss of a loved one or other personal tragedy. On a ten-point scale for dispreferred indifferents, we would rightly value the insult as a ‘one’ and the loss of our daughter at the hands of a knife-wielding terrorist as a ‘ten.’ Nevertheless, we must keep that critically important distinction in mind. Both are dispreferred indifferents, both go on the same side of the well-being scale, and neither can affect our character and well-being unless we mistakenly assent to them as things upon which our well-being depends.
I understand that many people feel uncomfortable with this aspect of Stoicism. There is no question this Stoic attitude toward externals, a category into which we must place even our loved ones, can at first appear absurd or irrational. That is why Stoicism is so frequently misunderstood and mischaracterized by those who read passages like Encheiridion 8 in isolation. Apart from Stoicism’s holistic theory, several aspects of Stoic practice can provoke concern. That is why the Stoics argued their ethical practices could not be understood and practiced without proper training in all three parts of their philosophy: logic, physics, and ethics. This brings us to the second aspect of Stoicism that can remedy these common misunderstandings.
Assent to a Providential Cosmos
Stoic practice relies on Stoic philosophical theory, and that theory includes a providentially ordered cosmos. It is essential for a student of Stoicism to understand this aspect of Stoic theory. As Epictetus taught:
…true education consists precisely in this, in learning to wish that everything should come about just as it does. And how do things come about? As the one who ordains them has ordained. (Discourses 1.12.15)
A. A. Long, an acclaimed scholar of Stoicism, offers the following commentary on this passage:
Epictetus’ context here is the freedom that we can achieve only by a proper apportionment of responsibility. Our responsibility as individual persons is solely over the area in which we are capable able of being autonomous—the ‘proper use of mental impressions’ (1.1 2.34). Everything else is God’s business; it concerns us only to the extent that we adapt ourselves to it by understanding its rationale within the world’s inevitable and providential system.[2]
Epictetus emphasizes this point again in Discourses 2.14.11, where we read:
The philosophers [Stoics] say that the first thing that needs to be learned is the following, that there is a God, and a God who exercises providential care for the universe, and that it is impossible to conceal from him not only our actions, but even our thoughts and intentions.
When people attempt to interpret Stoicism through the lens of their existing worldview, whether monotheism or atheism/agnosticism, they will inevitably misunderstand it. To truly understand Stoicism, one must set aside the preconceptions of their worldview long enough to consider the Stoic claims from their perspective. Again A. A. Long notes in another one of his scholarly books:
The main argument of this chapter is that Stoic eudaimonism makes good sense if and only if one adopts a Stoic view of the way things are. If, as I have claimed, determinism and divine providence are crucial features of that view, any attempt to elucidate Stoic ethics which ignores these factors will be broken-backed. I think this is why Cicero’s accounts of Stoic ethics, which make a little reference to what I call “theocratic postulate”, are less successful than Epictetus and Marcus at conveying the emotional attractions of Stoicism. The latter are short on argument, but they do succeed in showing how Stoicism could give someone of their era a sense of being at home in the world.[3]
And Christoph Jedan, a German ethics professor, makes this point succinctly when he argues,
The religious tenor of Stoic philosophy provides the key for an adequate understanding of Stoic ethics, not only across time but also structurally, by helping us to understand a number of counterintuitive and seemingly incoherent Stoic statements.[4]
The Stoic conceived of the cosmos as a living organism that exists for the benefit of itself and all of its parts. In any living organism, cells die and are replaced for the good of the organism as a whole. Parts are sometimes amputated to prevent disease or infection from spreading and killing the whole organism. The Stoics trusted the cosmos, which is permeated by logos, to do what is best for the whole, and they trained themselves to wish for and love what happened. As Pierre Hadot wrote:
By consenting to the present event which is happening to me, in which the whole world is implied, I want that which universal Reason wants, and identify myself with it in my feeling of participation and of belonging to a Whole which transcends the limits of individuality. I feel a sensation of intimacy with the universe, and plunge myself into the immensity of the cosmos… Thus the self qua will or liberty coincides with the will of universal Reason, or the logos which extends throughout all things. The self as guiding principle coincides with the guiding principle of the universe.[5]
Where does this leave us? It leaves many moderns in a difficult place. Stoicism, as understood and practiced by the ancient Stoics, does entail an existential choice to assent to a providentially ordered cosmos. Doing so is not a matter of religious faith. This existential choice implies assent to some reasonable assumptions supported by evidence, reason, and logic. In fact, modern discoveries and theories from quantum physics, quantum biology, and consciousness studies support the Stoic conception of the cosmos and human nature.
Stoic physics, which includes theology, is interconnected with Stoic logic and ethics to form the holistic Stoic philosophical system. The system cannot be deconstructed without consequence. The Stoics made this quite evident by using three similes: an egg, animal, and orchard. If we remove the yolk from an egg, it’s no longer an egg. Likewise, if you remove the decision-making capabilities from an animal, it’s no longer an animal. Finally, if you remove the soil from an orchard, it’s no longer capable of bearing fruit. What were the Stoics trying to point out with these similes? If you remove any part of Stoicism—logic, physics, or ethics—from the holistic philosophical system, what remains is not Stoicism as it is represented in the surviving Stoic texts.
Sadly, many moderns will reject the metaphysical doctrines of Stoicism without much consideration because they wrongly associate Stoic theology with monotheism. As A. A. Long notes:
For modern readers, raised in the traditions of Christianity, Judaism, or Islam, the theology of Graeco-Roman philosophy is exceptionally difficult to grasp without falling victim to either over-assimilation or excessive differentiation. In the case of Epictetus the difficulty is extreme because he says so much that reads like, and sometimes has been read as, a direct echo of the New Testament.[6]
If that is true for you, I strongly encourage you to set aside your preconceptions long enough to consider the providential cosmos of Stoicism with an open mind. Stop arguing against the strawman of monotheism and give the Stoic conception of the divine some honest consideration. You may still reject it; however, you will understand it is not the God of monotheistic religion you are rejecting.
Before I close, I want to point out an important distinction in Encheiridion 8 and similar passages that can lead to misunderstanding if overlooked. Epictetus instructs us to wish that things happen as they do. How can we know how things happened? The event must have already occurred. If we use the death of a loved one as an example, Epictetus is not telling us we should have explicitly wished for their death in advance. Instead, here is the critically important distinction, only after their death has occurred are we supposed to bring our will into agreement with the will of universal Reason and wish for things to have happened as they did. That is a subtle but important distinction. In other words, the Stoics are not telling us we should wish for tragedy in advance. As long as the outcome of any event is in question, we can wish for and attempt to bring about any end in accordance with Nature. In Discourses 2.6, Epictetus tells us:
Always remember what is your own and what is not, and you’ll never be troubled. So Chrysippus did well to say, ‘As long as the consequences remain unclear to me, I always hold to what is best fitted to secure such things as are in accordance with nature; for God himself, in creating me, granted me the freedom to choose them. But if I in fact knew that illness had been decreed for me at this moment by destiny, I would welcome even that; for the foot, too, if it had understanding, would be eager to get spattered with mud.’ (Discourses 2.6.8-10)
Note that Chrysippus claimed he would wish to be ill only if illness had been decreed for him “at this moment by destiny…” He did not say he would wish for illness if it wasn’t in his destiny, and he wouldn’t wish for it to come earlier than destiny prescribed either. In fact, he said the opposite,
As long as the consequences remain unclear to me, I always hold to what is best fitted to secure such things as are in accordance with nature; for God himself, in creating me, granted me the freedom to choose them.
In other words, Chrysippus declared himself free to choose those preferred indifferents that are in accordance with nature as long the will of universal Reason (fate) was unclear to him. Why? Because God himself gave him the freedom to choose good health, adequate financial means, a home, friends and family, etc., over their opposites. He would only wish for the opposite if he knew in advance that was his destiny.
What does this mean for the listeners who wrote to me? The Stoics did not tell us to wish a knife-wielding terrorist would abduct a loved one; that would be absurd. Nevertheless, if it does happen, they would tell us to do everything in our power to save them from harm. However, if that terrorist ends the life of our loved one, the Stoics remind us that event does not affect our moral excellence or well-being unless we assent to the wrong judgment that our well-being depends on their remaining alive. As horrible as the death of a loved one would be, it is still a dispreferred indifferent with regard to our character and it does not budge the balance of the well-being scale. At that point, it is in our best interest to accept, agree with, and love fate.
When we choose to see things from a cosmic perspective, as the Stoics recommend, all events, even those we would otherwise consider tragic offer us new possibilities. We get to choose the meaning of those events and thereby choose their impact on our lives. We can choose to allow them to destroy our character, or we can rise to the occasion, assent to the way things did happen, and live virtuously.
We know from the writings of Plato that Socrates could have escaped prison and death with the help of his friends. If he did, he wouldn’t be Socrates. He understood that, so he chose to live as Socrates and thereby chose to follow the path of virtue to his death. His philosophical legacy remains with us today because he made that choice.
Cato could have allowed himself to be captured by Caesar when his battle to save the Roman Republic was lost. However, he knew he would be used as a political pawn by Caesar to further his tyranny. Therefore, he chose to live as Cato; he chose the path of virtue and took his own life. Cato’s legacy lives on today as a great example of resistance to tyranny.
Epictetus could have chosen to be angry at his master and the gods for putting him into slavery. Instead, it appears he chose to rise above his circumstances. As a result, his master saw something special in Epictetus and sent him to Musonius Rufus for Stoic training. We have the teachings of Epictetus today because he chose to see things from a cosmic perspective. He could have chosen otherwise. However, he chose to live a virtuous life even while he was enslaved. Today, we are better off because Epictetus didn’t allow the chains of slavery to prevent him from living virtuously and becoming a teacher who still impacts people’s lives nearly two millennia later.
As Simplicius clearly articulates in his commentary on Encheiridion 8:
If we are not to live a life of frustration, being displeased by the things that happen, it is necessary that either the Universe should always do what pleases us, or we should be pleased by whatever we are allotted by the Universe: it is not possible to ‘be happy’ in any other way. [7]
He continues:
But it is impossible for us to compel the Universe to do what pleases us, and not even always to our advantage, because we are pleased by many things that are actually disadvantageous to us, either through our ignorance of their nature or when we run away with our irrational desires. So if we are to ‘be happy’, it is necessary that we should so dispose ourselves as to be pleased by what happens through the agency of the Universe.[8]
In closing, I’ll read one of Epictetus’ more protreptic admonitions from Discourses 1.6:
So come on, then, now that you recognize these things, and consider the faculties that you possess, and after having done so, say, ‘Bring on me now, Zeus, whatever trouble you may wish, since I have the equipment that you granted to me and such resources as will enable me to distinguish myself through whatever may happen.’ No, but you sit there trembling at the thought that certain things may come about, and wailing, grieving, and groaning at others that do come about; and then you cast blame on the gods. For what else than impiety can result from such meanness of spirit? And yet God has not only granted us these faculties that enable us to endure whatever may happen without being debased or crushed by it, but has also granted them to us—as befits a good king and, in truth, father—free from all hindrance, compulsion, and restraint, placing them entirely within our own power, without reserving any power even for himself to hinder or restrain them. Possessing these faculties as you do, free and as your own, you fail to make use of them, however, and fail to perceive what it is that you have received, and from whom, but sit there grieving and groaning, some of you blinded towards the giver and not even recognizing your benefactor, while others are led astray by their meanness of spirit into making reproaches and complaints against God. (Discourses 1.6.37-42)
When we stop asking for things to happen as we would like them to happen and trust the divine, providential cosmos to the extent that we wish events to happen as they do, we bring our will into perfect agreement with Nature. Then, as Epictetus promises, everything will be all right.
ENDNOTES
[1] Brennan, T., & Brittain, C. (2002). Simplicius: On Epictetus’ Handbook 1-26. Cornell University Press. p. 79
[2] Long, A. A. (2002). Epictetus: A Stoic and Socratic Guide to Life. Oxford University Press. p. 153
[3] Long, A. A. (1996). Stoic Studies. University of California Press. p. 201
[4] Jedan, C. (2009). Stoic Virtues: Chrysippus and the Religious Character of Stoic Ethics. Bloomsbury Academic. p. 2
[5] Hadot, P. (1998). The Inner Citadel: The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. Harvard University Press. pp. 145-6
[6] Long, A. A. (2002). Epictetus: A Stoic and Socratic Guide to Life. Oxford University Press. pp. 143-4
[7] Brennan, T., & Brittain, C. (2002). Simplicius: On Epictetus’ Handbook 1-26. Cornell University Press. p. 79
[8] Brennan, T., & Brittain, C. (2002). Simplicius: On Epictetus’ Handbook 1-26. Cornell University Press. p. 79
