A Courageous Mind for Courageous Action

What is most important? A mind that is brave and defiant in the face of calamity, not just opposed but hostile to luxury, neither courting nor fleeing danger; one that knows not to wait for fortune but to create it, to go to face both forms unafraid and undismayed, unshaken either by the turmoil of the one or the glitter of the other. (Natural Questions III, praef. 13)

As practicing Stoics, our equanimity is not derived from passivity, inaction, or avoidance of challenging and potentially troubling people and events. We do not stand by and let fate take its course. Instead, as Seneca makes perfectly clear in this passage, the Stoic is a person of action who is brave in the face of calamity and potential bad fortune. Stoic practice is not limited to the inner work discussed in the Day 3 meditation. In fact, that inner work is not an end in itself; that is not the goal of Stoicism. The goal is the development of an excellent character (virtue) and that can only be achieved through engagement with the people and events that can help us develop wisdom, courage, justice, and moderation. Ultimately, the development of that inner strength and character empowers us to engage serenely with the clamor and chaos of humanity and cosmic events so we can fulfill our role for the good of the all.

As I stated before, there are innumerable roles that can benefit the whole of humanity directly or indirectly. More often than not, we do not have to look far to discover our roles; fate typically ensures that our roles find us. This passage is not concerned with how we discern our roles; instead, it is focused on our preparedness to fulfill the roles in which fate places us. According to Seneca, a person who is fully prepared to face either good or bad fortune is “unafraid and undismayed, unshaken either by the turmoil of the one or the glitter of the other.” Such people possess three characteristics; they are:

1.    Brave and defiant in the face of calamity

2.    Hostile to luxury

3.    Neither courting nor fleeing danger

Brave and Defiant in the Face of Calamity

After we build an inner citadel in our soul (Day 1), learn to see things from the cosmic viewpoint (Day 2), and learn to accept and love fate (Day 3), we are prepared to be genuinely brave and defiant in the face of calamity. As practicing Stoics, we know that external events are “not up to us” and they cannot affect our moral character (virtue), neither can they disrupt our genuine well-being (eudaimonia). Stoic practice prepares us for every circumstance and any role fate may present. This enables Stoics to be co-creators of their fate. Again, Marcus Aurelius and Cato the Younger provide marvelous examples of Stoics who maintained their excellent character while engaged in their challenging social roles. Our role may not be battling an invading horde or resisting a tyrannical leader. Instead, it may be as simple as teaching, policing, designing, building, leading, etc., within a community. Likewise, our role may be providing for and raising children to be good citizens of the cosmopolis. We sometimes overlook the fact that every role in life has psychological dangers. The specter of calamity—the potential for loss, frustration, or failure—is present in every endeavor. Therefore, the perspective of the cosmic viewpoint combined with the strength and security of the inner citadel is indispensable to provide us with the assurance that our true self—our soul—cannot be harmed by external circumstances. That is how the Stoic can be brave and defiant in the face of calamity. This is not arrogance or false bravado. Instead, it is the peace of mind and calmness of action that comes forth from a place within us that cannot be harmed by people or events.

Hostile to Luxury

Both Seneca and Marcus Aurelius turned away from the luxuries their wealth and power provided them. Some criticize Seneca for not doing it sooner or to a greater degree. Nevertheless, he did turn to a simpler life in his later years and argues,

One who is serious about [philosophy as a way of life] should choose settings that are conducive to sobriety and clean living. Too much comfort makes the spirit unmanly, and even mere location undoubtedly has some power to ruin one’s strength. Draft animals whose hooves have been toughened by hard ground can travel on any road; those that have been fattened in soft meadows quickly go lame. The soldier who has been posted in steep places becomes ever stronger; the urbanite is a lazy fellow. Hands that go directly from plow handle to sword hilt can handle any kind of work, while those that gleam from manicure and massage give up the minute they have to get dirty. The harsher discipline of some places strengthens one’s spirit and renders it fit for great endeavors. (Letters 51.10-11)

In Letters16.8-9, Seneca argues that natural needs for life are minimal; however, when we succumb to the opinions of others, our desires can become “unbounded,” and the only thing we learn is “how to desire more.” Likewise, Seneca asserts:

Everything we need for our welfare is ready and available, but luxuries come only at the cost of misery and trouble. (Letters119.15)

To mitigate the desire for luxuries, Seneca proposes physical training as well as mental training:

Set yourself a period of some days in which you will be content with very small amounts of food, and the cheapest kinds, and with coarse, uncomfortable clothing, and say to yourself, “Is this what I was afraid of?” (Letters 18.5)

Why do we need physical training? Because “we are steeped in luxuries, and think everything harsh and difficult.” Physical training helps us “wake the mind from sleep” and serves to “pinch it, and remind it of how little our nature actually requires” (Letters 20.13). Otherwise, we run the risk of drowning ourselves in pleasures, because we have grown so accustomed to them that we “can no longer do without them.” At that point, we cease enjoying our pleasures because we are “slaves to them.” Seneca closes this passage with an ominous warning: “Once vice becomes a code of conduct, there ceases to be any possibility of cure.” (Letters39.6)

The Greek word askesisis used to describe both spiritual training and physical training; both are a part of Stoic practice. Nevertheless, Stoic askesisis not the extreme form of asceticism practiced by renunciates. As Pierre Hadot writes,

askesis– which must be understood not as asceticism, but as the practice of spiritual exercises – already existed within the philosophical tradition of antiquity.^[1]

For the Stoic practitioner, moderation is the key. However, it becomes quite obvious from reading the Stoics that we Westerners have become so decadent that Stoic moderation will seem like asceticism to many of us. As long as we are slaves to these externals we cannot be free. That is the reason we must become hostile to luxuries.

Neither Courting nor Fleeing Danger

Next, Seneca advocates moderation regarding danger. The Stoic, he suggests, does not seek it out, nor does he run from it. Courage is a virtue for Stoicism. Chrysippus defined courage as follows:

“Courage,” he says, “is knowledge as concerns things to be endured” or “a condition of mind which is obedient without fear to the highest law with respect to suffering and endurance.” (Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.53)

Courage, like each of the other virtues (prudence, justice, and moderation), is difficult to analyze in isolation. That is because the virtues are interdependent and entail each other. Moreover, virtue ethics does not offer ready-made rules for action like consequentialist and rule-based ethical theories. Virtue ethics depend on the wisdom, courage, justice, and moderation of the virtuous person to make the best decision based on all the facts available to them. Therefore, it should not be a surprise that Seneca offers his decision to go on living, in spite of his desire to commit suicide, as an example of courage (Letters78.2). Then, alternatively, he offers Cato’s suicide as an example of courage:

Cato’s final and supremely courageous wound through which freedom dispatched his spirit (Letters 96.72)

Even apart from Cato’s suicide, he provides us with a poignant example of a courageous Stoic mind. Cato did not succumb to the misconceived que será será attitude of love of fate. He could have maintained his position of political power if he had accepted the tyrannical rule of Caesar as fate. Instead, he committed his life to the attempt to save the Roman Republic from Caesar. Nevertheless, fate had other plans, and he accepted that fate even though it meant his own death. Cato lived as a Stoic and struggled against tyranny by living the virtues, which were in his control, and letting fate, which was not in his control, take its course. Cato lost that battle with Caesar, but he won the war. Cato’s example still stands as a reminder to tyrants everywhere to beware of those who have the courage to resist.

As Stoics we cannot know the outcome of our actions; the outcome is not “up to us.” Our good intentions and acts may not succeed from our limited, human perspective. Nevertheless, we must keep in mind that our only responsibility is to act virtuously, allow fate to do what it will, and then love the outcome.

Here are some questions to consider today:

• Am I mentally prepared to face a financial catastrophe, physically disability, loss of a loved one, or an equivalent calamity?
  • If not, what am I waiting for? Human history suggests we are likely to face at least one such event in my life. We must contemplate these possibilities in advance to be mentally prepared for them. That is the Stoic practice of negative visualization (premeditatio malorum).
• Am I addicted to luxury?
  • What can I do today to practice moderation?
  • What regular physical practices can I implement to prepare myself for physical hardship?
• Do I courageously co-create my fate, or do I tend to wait for things to happen?
  • What action can I take today, even if it is small, that will make me the co-creator of my fate?

As Stoics practitioners, our goal is to be strong enough to face both good and bad fortune with equal equanimity, so, as Seneca encourages, we can be “unafraid and undismayed, unshaken either by the turmoil of the one or the glitter of the other.” Echoing the profound words of Rudyard Kipling’s famous poem titled If, we must be prepared to “meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.”^[2]

ENDNOTES:

^[1] Pierre Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault, ed. Arnold Ira Davidson (New York: Blackwell, 1995), p. 82

^[2] Rudyard Kipling, If (1895)