Our modern world is bursting with angst. News of an impending environmental crisis, worldwide political turmoil, gratuitous violence, wars, and human suffering are delivered instantaneously, twenty-four hours a day, to the smart devices in the palms of our hands. It seems there is no escape from the incessant stream of allegedly newsworthy catastrophes short of ignoring the news, abandoning all forms of social media, and sequestering ourselves in some form of safe space, far away from the mayhem of human society. That was the solution offered by the ancient Epicureans. They retreated from social and political life to their garden where they tried to live tranquil lives among like-minded friends. There were exceptions; some Epicureans engaged in society when they thought the benefit of doing so was significant enough to risk their tranquility. However, the primary Epicurean strategy was to retreat from society and thereby avoid the people and events that can cause psychological distress. The Stoics provided an alternative solution.
It appears the Epicurean garden did provide a place to develop tranquility for some ancients, and it seems reasonable to assume a similar approach to life can do the same for moderns. However, the Epicurean garden is no place for Stoics. To become a Stoic, one must avoid the alluring walls of the Epicurean garden that separate us from society. The Stoic path does not lead to any peaceful, secluded garden. Instead, it leads us out of the garden and into the clamor of society, where we can fulfill our roles and duties as rational, social creatures. Fortunately, Stoicism provides us with the psychological tools and training methods that will enable us to thrive and experience tranquility, even amid this seemingly hostile environment.
Stoics are a different breed; they can flourish in whatever sociopolitical circumstance they find themselves while they simultaneously work to create a society and world that exemplifies courage, justice, wisdom, and moderation. The Stoic prepares to handle the best and worst of human nature within their homes, marketplaces, cities, boardrooms, political forums, and battlefields, while the Epicurean prefers to remain in their garden to escape those potentially disturbing environments. While both pursue virtue, the Epicurean seeks inner tranquility (ataraxia), in part at least, by controlling their external environment; the Stoic, on the other hand, creates inner resilience that allows for psychological well-being (eudaimonia) regardless of external circumstances.
Stoics realize how easy it is for the hordes of externals to trample and burn the walls of the Epicurean garden. In contrast, the formidable walls of the Stoic’s inner citadel can withstand the siege of Fortuna and the crashing waves of inexorable fate. Therefore, it is not surprising that many ancient Romans from the political class adopted Stoicism as a way of life. In fact, two of our surviving textual sources come from a Roman emperor (Marcus Aurelius) and a Roman senator (Seneca), and a third comes from the lectures of a freed slave turned philosopher (Epictetus). These writings resonated with people throughout history because these three Stoics lived their philosophy in the real world. They were not academic philosophers expounding on hypothetical scenarios. Instead, each of these ancient Stoics lived and thrived in the tumultuous, chaotic, sweaty, and occasionally bloody world of humanity because they relied on their inner resilience, cultivated by Stoic practice, to live virtuously. The Stoic builds his retreat inside his psyche, not in a garden retreat. The Stoic inner citadel provides an ever-present fortress and retreat, where the Stoic’s soul remains untouchable amidst the vicissitudes of life. As a result, the ancient Stoics possessed the inner strength to engage in social and political life. As C. Kavin Rowe points out,
In contrast to the Epicureans, for example, the Stoic tradition emphasized the compatibility of philosophy with civic life; indeed, many went a good deal farther than this and stressed the necessity of civic engagement as part and parcel of what it meant to be a Stoic.[1]
Epictetus even mocked the Epicureans on this point and argued their philosophy is not conducive to human society:
In God’s name, I ask you, can you imagine a city of Epicureans? ‘I shan’t marry.’ ‘Nor I, for one shouldn’t marry.’ ‘Nor should one have children; nor should one perform any civic duties.’ So what will happen, then? Where are the citizens to come from? Who’ll educate them? Who’ll be superintendent of the cadets? Who’ll be director of the gymnasium? And then, what will the young men be taught? (Discourses 3.7.19)
Stoicism does not lead us to a place of tranquility and pleasure in the garden. Instead, the Stoic path trains us to be a helmsman who is capable of piloting our psyche through the tempestuous winds and turbulent waters that leave many others drowning or dashed on Fortuna’s rocks. Therefore, while the inner practices of meditation, mindfulness training, and the development of inner tranquility are helpful in the practice of Stoicism, we must be careful not to allow these means to become ends. Ancient Stoics were not reclusive contemplatives; they engaged in society. As Pierre Hadot notes:
The Stoic always acts “under reserve”—but he does act, taking part in social and political life. This is another important point which separates him from the Epicureans, who in principle retire from everything that may cause worry. The Stoic does not act in his material or even spiritual interest,but acts in a way which is always disinterested and in the service of the human community.[2]
The Stoics thought the cosmos and the humans with it form a unified Whole, guided by universal Reason, which they called Logos. As Richard Tarnas highlights in his acclaimed book The Passion of the Western Mind,
The existence of the world-governing reason had another important consequence for the Stoic. Because all human beings shared in the divine Logos, all were members of a universal human community, a brotherhood of mankind that constituted the World City, or Cosmopolis, and each individual was called upon to participate actively in the affairs of the world.[3]
Throughout his Meditations, Marcus Aurelius reminds himself of the connectedness of humanity as he contemplates how to deal with the frequently antisocial behavior of people (see Meditations 2.1). As Emperor of Rome, Marcus dealt with the best and worst of human nature. I suspect this is one reason his Meditations, written as a personal diary, continues to resonate with so many people. Within its pages,we see our current struggles against the vicissitudes of life and the seeming wickedness of humanity. We see Marcus facing challenges that would psychologically cripple some people; nevertheless, he remained strong even while surrounded by chaos. Marcus’ equanimity is inspiring and provides us with a wonderful picture of a life well-lived under trying circumstances. In Meditations 4.3, Marcus provides an outline of the Stoic practice that empowered him to live as he did.
When the ruling power within us is in harmony with nature, it confronts events in such a way that it always adapts itself readily to what is feasible and is granted to it. For it attaches its preference to no specific material; rather, it sets out to attain its primary objects, but not without reservation, and if it comes up against something else instead, it converts it into material for itself, much like a fire when it masters the things that fall into it. These would have extinguished a little lamp, but a blazing fire appropriates in an instant all that is heaped on to it,and devours it, making use of that very material to leap ever higher. Never embark on an action at random, or otherwise than according to one of the principles that perfect the art of living. (Meditations 4.1-2)
That is a powerful passage. According to Marcus, when our rational faculty(our fragment of the logos) is in coherence with universal Reason (Logos), external events serve as fuel for the fire which drives us forward and guides our actions. In that state of coherence with Nature, we will wish for events to happen as they do, rather than as we may desire them to happen (Discourses 1.12.15). Then, as events happen, we stick close to them and follow them (Discourses3.1.18; Enchiridion 53).[4] When we combine these ideas from Marcus and Epictetus with the concept of the reserve clause, we begin to understand what it means to live according to Nature as the Stoics conceived it. We begin to see why the concept of a providential cosmos played such an important role in the Stoic ethical practice.
If we outline the process step-by-step, it becomes clearer. First, the Stoic intends an appropriate action to bring about a virtuous end. Then, with the reserve clause in mind, the Stoic tries to achieve the intended goal. If external events prevent the action or produce an outcome other than intended, the Stoic accepts and even loves the outcome as an event of Nature beyond their control (amor fati). Next, the Stoic quickly adapts to the new situation and follows fate closely. In Marcus’ words, the fateful event then becomes fuel for the fire that drives the Stoic forward. If Nature gives the Stoic lemons; she makes lemonade rather than fretting and whining because she wanted grape juice. When the Stoic follows the cart of fate closely and willingly, she discovers the freedom available to her to act virtuously and experience the well-being that results from aligning her will with the will of a providential cosmos.
This practice does not lead to a fatalistic mindset; instead, it creates the attitude of gratitude I wrote about in Epictetus’ Prescription for Psychological Resilience. Marcus asserts the purpose of a philosophical life is to keep the guardian-spirit (daimon) inside us “inviolate and free from harm.” As a result, it will “welcome whatever happens to it and is allotted to it, as issuing from the source from which it too took its origin” (Meditations 2.17). Marcus repeatedly reminds himself to assent to events as they occur because they are part of a providential cosmos.[5],[6] We also see this theme of assent to a providential cosmos echoed by Epictetus,
[T]rue 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)
Marcus highlights the futility of seeking external locations as a retreat for one’s soul and argues that the inner citadel of our psyche is the only place where we can discover real peace and freedom.
People seek retreats for themselves in the countryside, by the seashore, in the hills; and you too have made it your habit to long for that above all else. But this is altogether unphilosophical,when it is possible for you to retreat into yourself whenever you please; for nowhere can one retreat into greater peace or freedom from care than within one’s ownsoul. (Meditations 4.3.1)
For Marcus, his soul (psyche) was his inner citadel. Using the dichotomy of control, Marcus attempted to create an invincible stronghold in his psyche that protected his soul from all externals. We can do the same. Nothing external to us can touch our psyche; this is a powerful realization once we understand and apply it. Marcus provides himself, and us, with the following instructions:
Constantly grant yourself this retreat and so renew yourself; but keep within you concise and basic precepts that will be enough, at first encounter, to cleanse you from all distress and to send you back without discontent to the life to which you will return. (Meditations 4.3.3)
Here, we see three important facts about the inner citadel of the Stoic. First, it travels with us in our psyche and thereby provides us with a constant rather than occasional place of retreat. Second, “basic precepts” must be kept within the inner citadel. This is an echo of Epictetus’ instruction to keep basic Stoic principles close at hand.[7] Finally, Marcus makes the purpose of this retreat explicit: it will “cleanse us from distress” so we can return to fulfill our social roles and duties. Therefore, retreat into the inner citadel is a means rather than an end in the Stoic way of life.[8]
At the beginning of the twenty-first century, all but the naive Pollyanna would agree we live in troubled times. It is true that many people throughout history have considered their particular age more troubled than those which preceded theirs. Nevertheless, we cannot deny the obvious facts of our time; social, political, and environmental issues loom large today and threaten our existence. As a result, it is a natural inclination to withdraw from the tumult of social and political life. However, the Stoics argue we should not follow this inclination. Instead, they assert that each of us is part of a larger whole, in which we are obligated by Nature to take part. This does not imply self-sacrifice for the common good. On the contrary, the Stoics argue being a part of the whole of humanity is an essential role of the self-sufficient individual. We each have a role to play in this drama we call life and retreating from the stage is not an option for those who seek to live virtuously, according to Nature.
Sadly, what Seneca acknowledged in ancient times is still true today, “the Stoics have a bad reputation among the ignorant for being too callous” (On Clemency 2.5). That caricature of the emotionless, aloof stoic is pervasive in literature and thereby misconstrues Stoicism in the minds of many people. Even worse, some modern practitioners fuel that misconception when they represent Stoicism merely as a psychological therapy designed to achieve tranquility. To some extent that is understandable; the Stoa was and should remain a place where broken souls (psyches) enter for treatment. Nevertheless, we must not lose sight of the purpose of Stoicism—a virtuous life. Tranquility is a byproduct of such a life; it is not the goal. As Stoics, our self-interest must mature, through Stoic practice, into an affinity for all humankind. That is cosmopolitanism; that is Stoicism in action.[9] The modern Stoa needs to be a place where distressed souls can find treatment. However, we must resist turning the Stoa into an Epicurean garden. Stoicism should provide the practices necessary to heal troubled souls, so they can engage with, rather than avoid the chaos associated with social roles and duties.
Now, more than ever, humanity needs some strong-minded, rational people to step away from the seeming comfort, security, and entertaining distractions of modern life and into the tumultuous world of humanity. We moderns who are attempting to live as Stoics must work toward counteracting the caricature of the “callous stoic” by behaving in the world as the ancient Stoics did. The truth about Stoicism, so beautifully articulated by Seneca, is largely unknown to the average person:
No philosophical school is kindlier and gentler, nor more loving of humankind and more attentive to our common good, to the degree that its very purpose is to be useful, bring assistance, and consider the interests not only of itself as a school but of all people, individually and collectively. (On Clemency 2.5.3)
Stoicism will lose its power as a philosophical way of life if it becomes just another sanitized version of academic philosophy. Academia destroyed the ancient conception of philosophy as a way of life by turning it into a form of mental masturbation for intellectual elites. Academia will do the same to Stoicism if we are not vigilant.[10] We cannot live the Stoic life in isolation from society. We cannot develop, practice, and test virtue within the comfort of our living rooms or academic lecture halls. Stoicism grew up and prospered amidst the bustle and clamor of the Athenian marketplace, the political turmoil of the Roman Senate, and the clash between Roman armies and their enemies. Those who want to follow the powerful, life-changing path reflected in the writings of Seneca, the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, and the Discourses of Epictetus must shun the seemingly safe walls of the Epicurean garden. The ancient seeds of Stoicism will grow shallow roots within the safety of the garden. The seeds of the traditional Stoic way of life must be scattered along the path not taken by the masses. There, Stoic seeds sink their roots deep into the soil of Nature to withstand the winds and drought of external circumstances that inevitably come.
Again, the Stoic is a different breed of person, one who must live outside the garden walls where they can rise to the challenge of life’s vicissitudes. Thomas Paine’s famous opening passage from The Crisis comes to mind. I changed Paine’s lines to make them poignant for Stoics:
These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer Epicurean and the sunshine Peripatetic will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of the cosmopolis; but the Stoic that stands by humanity now,deserves the love and thanks of men and women.[11]
Stoic philosophy inspired a slave to achieve excellence and a Roman Emperor to live humbly. Stoicism is the great equalizer. The most powerful politician, the richest business person, the strongest athlete, and the impoverished homeless vagrant are all measured by the same scale at the Stoa—virtue. How are you living your wisdom, moderation, justice, and courage? How can we develop and test our virtue without participating in our social roles and duties? This is not a call for Stoics to become modern “Social Justice Warriors.” I believe the ancient Stoics would renounce much of the anger and passion-driven behavior that occurs under that modern SJW banner. Neither is it a call for a collectivist social or political movement to enforce someone’s vision of cosmic justice. History suggests that such movements are frequently disastrous and they are contrary to the concept of individual freedom and responsibility encouraged by Stoicism. Nevertheless, Stoicism does not provide cover for quietism either. The practice of Stoicism requires individual action—virtuous action within society. It is incumbent upon each of us who claims to be following the Stoic path to determine our role within the greater whole of humanity and to act on it. Pierre Hadot suggests,
Putting theory into practice begins with an exercise that consists in recognizing oneself as a part of the Whole, elevating oneself to cosmic consciousness, or immersing oneself within the totality of the cosmos.[12]
The world needs some capable Stoics to set an example by engaging in peaceful, courageous, just, moderate, and wise action that promotes the good of the whole. It is time for twenty-first-century Stoics to step out of the Epicurean garden and into the marketplace of humanity where the ancient Stoics performed their social roles so well. As I noted in a previous episode, we each have a unique role to play within the whole of humanity. In the famous words of the American Poet Walt Whitman,
[T]he powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.[13]
What is your verse? Have you given it much thought? What is your role in life? Whatever that role may be, Stoic practice can help you develop the moral character that will enable you to contribute your verse to the play of life in a virtuous manner.
ENDNOTES:
[1] C. Kavin Rowe, One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions (Yale University Press, 2016), p. 80
[2] Pierre Hadot, What Is Ancient Philosophy? (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 2002), pp. 134-5
[3] Richard Tarnas, The Passion Of The Western Mind: Understanding the Ideas That Have Shaped Our World Views (New York: Harmony, 1991), p. 76
[4] I rely on the translation of Franco Scalenghe for Discourses 3.10.18, which reads: “For we must have ready at hand these two general principles: that outside of proairesis nothing is either good or evil; and that one must not take the lead of the things but stick to them.” His translation can be found at http://epitteto.com/THE%20DIAIRESIS%20TREE%20BOOK%20III.html
[5] Meditations 3.16; 4.26; 4.33; 5.8; 5.11; 5.18; 6.58.
[6] Christopher Fisher, “Providence or Atoms? Providence! A Defense of the Stoic Worldview,” inStoicism Today: Selected Writings II (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2016), 228–41. Also available here: https://traditionalstoicism.com2016/02/08/providence-or-atoms-2/
[7] See Discourses 1.1.21; 1.27.1-6; 1.30.1-5; 2.1.29; 2.11.23-25; 3.10.1-5; 3.10.18; 3.18.1; 3.24.103 & 115; 4.3.1-3; 4.4.34-35 & 39-40; 4.12.7-8; Enchiridion 52.2-53.4
[8] For those interested in learning more about the “inner citadel” and the Stoic resilience of mind it offers, there is no better source than Pierre Hadot’s book The Inner Citadel(1998), Harvard University Press.
[9] This is the Stoic doctrine of oikeiosis.
[10] http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2016/01/11/when-philosophy-lost-its-way/?nytmobile=0&_r=0 *Note* I am most certainly not making an argument against the academic scholars, like A.A. Long, David Sedley, Pierre Hadot, Christopher Gill, Brad Inwood, etc., who provide us with English translations, and commentaries on Stoic philosophy. Without their efforts, people like myself, who do not read Greek or Latin, would have little upon which to base our practice of Stoicism. I am, however, opposed to the modern effort by some to morph Stoicism into an agnostic/atheist philosophy to make it palatable to modern academics and the secular-minded masses without openly acknowledging that their “modern” version of Stoicism is a divergence from the original, mainstream understanding of Stoicism.
[11] Adapted from The Crisis by Thomas Paine (1776)
[12] Hadot, p. 136
[13] Walt Whitman (1892) “O Me! O Life!”, Leaves of Grass
