Series | History of Ancient Western Philosophy, Pt. 20
Stoicism… Without the Pretense?
3 Roman Stoics — Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius
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Welcome to Part 20 in the series! Here we’ll be looking at the ideas of three Roman Stoics… so we’ll be picking up some themes first broached in Part 17.
Previous entries can be found by clicking here:
Before we get started, I have a confession to make… I’ve always felt conflicted about Stoicism. As a historian of philosophy, I tend to think of ideas a little bit like tools… their potential benefit depends a lot on who’s wielding them.
But, some tools are more dangerous than others when they’re misused.
On one hand, I’ve known folks who’ve carefully applied Stoic principles to challenges in their own lives, and I think there might be real value in the considered adoption of Stoicism as a therapeutic regimen.
On the other hand, I’ve also seen misguided appeals to Stoic virtue cause DEVASTATING harm — the kind there’s no coming back from.
So, I’m not sure whether to celebrate or mourn Stoicism’s recent rise in popularity — spawning a total commodification of the philosophy through self-help books, Stoic-themed dating sites, and t-shirts with Stoic mantras scrawled all over them.
Of course, the modern “pop-Stoic” movement is a far cry from what was espoused two millennia ago. That’s why I think it’s a good idea to separate the philosophy from the pretense.
The Pitfalls of Stoic Pretense
Fortunately there are already legitimate scholars pushing back against this rising tide of Stoic pretense.
One of the most active is CUNY professor of philosophy — Massimo Pigliucci — who has identified three forms of misappropriated Stoicism, which he calls “$toicism, Broicism, and stoicisM.”
“The first,” he says, “is a distortion of Stoicism that’s employed to achieve wealth and fame” — seen in the avalanche of Stoic-themed self-help guides popping up in recent years.
Instead of focusing on a life dedicated to virtue and sagacity, however, many of these volumes pilfer Stoic ideas in the name of financial success and/or “life-hacks.”
Pigliucci continues: “the second is a different kind of distortion, which makes Stoicism into a precursor of and philosophical foundation for ‘men’s rights’ nonsense” — championed by anti-feminist groups in the “manosphere,” despite the fact that Stoicism is considered by historians to be one of the more progressive ancient philosophies when it comes to gender equity.
The last form of Stoic misappropriation identified by Pigliucci involves the “potentially even more dangerous distortion that turns Stoicism into a tool for military training and aggression.” He holds up several examples of military leaders embracing the “self-control” aspects of Stoicism — especially for warriors wounded on the battlefield — while simultaneously disregarding its broader moral concerns about warfare.
Separating Philosophy from Pretense
Certainly, these are some troubling directions that a superficial or misguided interpretation of Stoicism can lead, and in large part they stem from what philosophers call “selective emphasis.”
But, I’ve noticed this same problem cropping up in some scholarly attempts at pushing back, too.
For example, the typical response to pop-Stoicism’s spotlight on financial success and life-hacking is to point out how ancient Stoics focused on acquiring virtue though a kind of psychological composure called equanimity. The counterclaim is that such a narrow focus misses the larger point of Stoic ethics, i.e. that the attainment of rational virtue is the ONLY THING over which we can exert any control.
And that’s true… to a certain degree.
After all, the Roman Stoics seem committed to helping others in their writings. The letters of Seneca (d. 65 CE) were almost always aimed at helping their addressees overcome “sickness of the soul.”
And, in our treatment of others, Epicteuts (c. 50–135 CE) called for both the “modesty” (aidōs) to curb one’s own desires and the kind of “love for humanity” (philanthrōpia) that could inspire us to act on their behalf.
The Stoic emperor Marcus Aurelius (121 to 180 CE) often reminded himself in his Meditations to consider the well-being of others and not feel angered by their transgressions.
But… we might also think, “Easy for them to say!” After all, these men all benefited from what we’d consider today to be some EXTREME PRIVILEGE.
Estimates of Seneca’s fortune (which a few ancient sources say he acquired by sucking up to wealthy elites so they’d name him in their wills) place it at over 300 million sestertii. That would make him a multi-billionaire by today’s standards! Epictetus started life as a slave and suffered an injury that left him dependent on crutches, BUT he went on to become the most sought after teacher in Rome. And, as sole ruler of the largest empire of the day, Aurelius was essentially the most powerful man on the planet.
So their ethical entreaties might ring a bit hollow…
As someone who grew up in the American South — where toxic masculinity, systemic racism, and classism are pervasive — I’m wary of ANY doctrine that could underwrite the passive acceptance of oppression.
There are a number of injustices in the world I think people OUGHT to get emotional about, ones we should STRIVE to change. To not do so would be a moral failure.
Simply put, one question that weighs heavily on my mind is whether inward Stoic quietude leads, necessarily, to outward quietism.
Consider what Epictetus says about someone weeping over the unexpected loss of their son: “Remember that what bothers him isn’t these events themselves — since someone else would be completely unmoved by them — but the attitude he takes toward them, considering them so awful. Commiserate with him, of course. Even sigh or groan, if that’s what he’s doing. But don’t let yourself sigh or groan inwardly.” — Ench. 16
Seneca pretty much agreed. In his Consolation to Marcia, he admits such grief is natural… but only to a very minimal point: “the loss of those who are dearest to us, brings an inevitable pang and wrings even the stoutest heart. But false opinion has added something more to our grief than Nature has prescribed. Observe how passionate and yet how brief is the sorrow of dumb animals… except man — he nurses his grief, and the measure of his affliction is not what he feels, but what he wills to feel.”
When I read such appeals to psychological austerity, though, I feel a bit like I’m being gaslit. It doesn’t seem at all like a stretch to go from “what troubles you is REALLY just your judgment, NOT the event” to “the social ills you perceive are just your JUDGMENT of them.”
So, it shouldn’t surprise ANYONE that a bunch of affluent, CIS-gendered white dudes in Silicon Valley — who like to sing the praises of “rugged-individualism” and “pulling oneself up by the bootstraps” — have adopted such ideas.
Pigliucci, and others, have also done much to expose the utter incoherence of “red pill” Stoicism. Their most common counterclaim involves pointing out how — as Pigliucci puts it — “the goal of Stoicism is to make us into the best human beings we can become, and this is by no means restricted by gender.”
Scholars also rightly point to the fact that Epictetus’s teacher — Musonius Rufus — believed both men and women should receive philosophical training.
Which is a pretty progressive stance… FOR ITS TIME, at least.
Donna Zuckerberg, in Not All Dead White Men (2018), has shown how this progressivism toward women needs to be considered in context. After all, Stoics like Musonius weren’t interested in the empowerment of women OUTRIGHT; they just thought moral education would help women occupy their socially mandated (i.e. subordinate) roles with dignity and grace.
Not exactly Gloria Steinem, there.
A Philosophy of Appropriation?
I think part of the disconnect between ancient Stoicism and its various modern re-brandings has something to do with the historical distance between the Roman Stoics and their Greek forbears.
More than three centuries separated Stoicism’s inception — by Zeno of Citium (b. 336 BCE)— and it’s rise to prominence in Imperial Rome. And, it would be ANOTHER century before Marcus Aurelius would pen his Meditations.
But, circumstances change. Where Greeks Stoics like Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus were navigating the new realities of a life in Athens fraught with the challenges of foreign rule… Seneca, Epictetus, and Aurelius all seem to be laboring to keep their wealth, power, and success from going to their heads.
Although that may be some practical advice still worth heeding… when I read the scattered fragments of Greek Stoicism alongside their Roman successors, I can’t help but feel a sense of APPROPRIATION.
For those who already know something about Stoicism… pun intended!
You see, “appropriation” is the most common translation of oikeiōsis — a concept that’s foundational to Stoic ethics.
Simply stated, the Stoics believed moral development was a matter of deciding what aspects of the world to “make one’s own.”
For them, this was a form of “following Nature” — as all living things possess impulses toward that which “belongs” to them, i.e. that which promotes their survival and growth.
An infant seeks nourishment and nurturing from its mother. A mother loves her child because it is like her.
According to the Stoics, human beings are NATURALLY rational. And since we all have that in common, they believed ethical maturity is a matter of extending one’s ethical circle to include all rational beings… effectively making all of humanity into ONE body.
Of course, the kind of “appropriation” of which I think the later Roman Stoics may have been guilty is more like MISappropriation — the same kind of philosophical selective emphasis used to excuse moral shortcomings we find in modern pop-Stoicism.
Let’s take a closer look to see how this might be true…
The Julio-Claudian Dynasty
It might strike you as odd that a philosophy of personal austerity could rise to prominence in a place like Rome… just as it was reaching the heights of its imperial power.
But, the unlikely pairing probably grew out of the cruelty and corruption exhibited by the immediate successors to the first Roman emperor Augustus Caesar in the first decades of the empire. Collectively these rulers are known as the Julio-Claudian dynasty and even though the period of their rule is often called the Pax Romana, or Roman Peace, several of them were notoriously violent and unstable.
During his reign, Tiberius became increasingly paranoid, overseeing many violent “purges” meant to root out potential rivals. His successor Caligula likewise became obsessed with eliminating threats and continued his uncle’s frequent use of purges and treason-trials.
Claudius — often considered best among the Julio-Claudian line — had at least 35 Senators (and over 400 citizens) executed and ordered the expulsion of Jews from the city.
But, perhaps the worst of the worst — at least in reputation — was the emperor Nero.
Nero & Seneca
Although few historical accounts survive from the time of Nero’s rule, what we DO have doesn’t paint a pretty picture. For instance, the Stoic philosopher Epictetus had, as a child, been the slave of Nero’s scribe and he remembered the ruler as a spoiled, angry, and unhappy man.
Later historians would go on to hold Nero responsible for starting the Great Fire of Rome — which destroyed most of the city — because he wanted buildings cleared for the construction of a monument to himself. And, although the infamous story of him fiddling as Rome burned is almost certainly untrue — records indicate he wasn’t even in the city at the time — it shows just how reviled he was by subsequent generations of Romans.
The Stoic philosopher Seneca had the unfortunate task of serving as Nero’s tutor and advisor. In his works we see the desperation of a man trying to persuade his reader to take up the pursuit of level-headed virtue.
Seneca on Anger
The emotion Seneca seemed most concerned about reigning in was anger. As Peter Adamson states:
Anger, by its very nature, causes us to lose control over ourselves. Seneca compares the loss of one’s temper to running off a cliff: once you do lose control, it’s too late to turn back. The [Aristotelian] idea of moderate anger is a contradiction in terms. That would mean anger is under the restraining influence of reason, but anger is precisely a state in which reason is no longer exercising restraint. Hence another Senecan aphorism: “other vices impel the mind, anger overthrows it. — p.83
Seneca correctly pointed out that anger was most common among the wealthy. Their pampered lifestyle had led them to the false assumption that the world would ALWAYS bend to their will. Nero’s temper was legendary.
When Seneca begged to be released from his employ after 12 years of service, Nero embraced his tutor, kissed him, and assured him no harm would ever befall his beloved mentor. All the same, after that meeting Seneca visited the city only when summoned and avoided large crowds… lest he make the job of Nero’s assassins any easier. Finally, in 65 CE, the emperor had caught wind of a conspiracy against him and saw his opportunity. Although there was little evidence of Seneca’s involvement, Nero ordered his suicide for good measure.
Seneca, On the Happy Life
In his writings, Seneca demonstrates a keen awareness of how incongruous his courtly lifestyle was with Stoic ideals.
He lived in a stately Roman villa and had countless servants and, yet, in his letters he holds up a practical form of Stoic virtue by pointing out the difference between owning one’s possessions and being owned BY them.
He also reminds us in his letter “On the Happy Life” that even a Stoic, in the end, is still just a human being.
He writes:
“a man may be called ‘happy’ who, thanks to reason, has ceased either to hope or to fear: but rocks also feel neither fear nor sadness, nor do cattle, yet no one would call those things happy which cannot comprehend what happiness is.”
Additionally, Seneca’s brand of Stoicism seems to have been colored by an Aristotelian notion of BECOMING:
“I am not a wise man, and I will not be one in order to feed your spite: so do not require me to be on a level with the best of men, but merely to be better than the worst: I am satisfied, if every day I take away something from my vices and correct my faults. I have not arrived at perfect soundness of mind, indeed, I never shall arrive at it. I am setting out alleviations for my gout, not cures… But, compared with the state of your feet, you cripples, I am a sprinter.”
Perhaps Seneca wanted to allow room for people to grow into virtue. Perhaps this was just lip-service. Perhaps it was a little of both.
Epictetus
Of the three Roman Stoics we’re covering here, Epictetus probably has the best claim to walking the walk of a Stoic sage.
Born as a slave, he lived in the household of Epaphroditos, himself a freed Greek slave who worked as secretary to emperor Nero. The young man showed academic promise and was educated by a Stoic tutor. He was eventually granted his freedom and began a simple life of teaching Stoic virtue.
Although testimonies from his students indicate Epictetus was an eloquent speaker, we have no surviving written works from him. Instead, the Discourses and the work known as the “Handbook,” or Enchiridion, were written by his student Arrian, who claimed to have composed both works directly from his teacher’s lectures.
Epictetus applied his Stoic principles to the Aristotelian concept of prohairesis, or rational choice. According to Epictetus, Stoic virtue consists in focusing on what is within one’s own control — namely judgment, impulse, desire, and aversion — and not wasting one’s mental energies on the things one cannot control, like the body, possessions, or reputation. The metaphor that is most often employed to illustrate this actually comes from Cicero, who summed up the Stoic position thusly:
“If a man were to make it his purpose to take a true aim with a spear or arrow at some mark, his ultimate end, corresponding to the ultimate good as we pronounce it, would be to do all he could to aim straight.” — On Ends, 3.
So, the idea is to focus on process, like an archer focusing on her shooting technique, and let the outcome take care of itself.
Epictetus offers this same advice in numerous ways. Here’s one example:
“Don’t hope that events will turn out the way you want, welcome events in
whichever way they happen: this is the path to peace.” — Ench. 8
The Enchiridion & Role Ethics
Epictetus also offered an account of Stoic virtue that placed greater emphasis on one’s role within a society than his philosophical peers had done.
A monograph by Brian Johnson, published in 2013, focuses on reading Epictetus as a role ethicist — a moral philosophy built on the notion that we play a number of roles in life, each with unique moral implications.
As Epictetus reminds us in the Enchiridion,
“Remember that you are an actor in a drama, which is as the playwright wishes; if the playwright wishes it short, it will be short; if long, then long. … For this is what is yours: to finely play the role that is given; but selecting [the role] belongs to another.” — Ench. 17
This passage presents a conceptual tension, however.
If one takes seriously the Stoic ideas illustrated in the archer metaphor, it may seem like there’s really only ONE moral goal — to cultivate virtue within. But, as Epictetus claims in his Discourses, each of us will play a variety of social roles within our moral lives:
“doing what a man ought to do, that he may act according to order, to reason, and not carelessly… concerns the duties of a man; for I ought not to be free from affects like a statue, but I ought to maintain the relations natural and acquired, as a pious man, as a son, as a father, as a citizen.” — Dis. 3.2.4
So, it also looks like there may turn out to be MANY external, moral goals over the course of a single lifetime.
Perhaps one way to square these conflicting ideas would be to tie social roles not to virtue AS SUCH, but to the contextual, moral IMPLICATIONS of a singular, Stoic virtue of cultivating equanimity.
In other words, Stoic virtue in ANY scenario may turn out to always be the same old equanimity, but, such equanimity may make various demands on us as situations change.
As Epictetus reminds us: “Settle on the type of person you want to be and stick to it, whether alone or in company.” (Ench. 33.1)
Aurelius and Authenticiy
The tension we just saw in Epictetus’s philosophy is perhaps strained even further when it comes to the life and work of Marcus Aurelius — who’s often called the only historical example of Plato’s “philosopher-king.”
A common thread running throughout Stoic philosophy is the notion that Stoic equanimity was the only way for a human being “to act in agreement with nature.”
This was a phrase commonly uttered among philosophers of late antiquity. We saw it stated repeatedly in the writings of Cicero and it’s clearly THE central motivating idea behind Lucretuis’s De Rerum Natura.
To be sure, the archer metaphor suggests what such natural action entailed for a Stoic, but perhaps a less subtle example was offered by the Greek Stoics, Cleanthes and Chrysippus.
They compared our dependence on fate to that of a dog tied to a cart — we must choose ONLY whether we will run faithfully in the direction we’re being pulled, or else be dragged there, anyway, against our will.
In Epictetus’ words: “If I knew that it was fated for me to be sick, I would even wish for it; for the foot also, if it had intelligence, would volunteer to get muddy.” (Disc, 2.6.10)
This may seem like an innocuous reminder to remain virtuously humble, patient, and dutiful. However, such statements reveal a kind of resignation and accommodation of life’s challenges that could easily be twisted in some pretty nefarious ways.
One needn’t look far within the annals of history to find some oppressor using such “beatitudes” to mollify and control those over which they have authority. Likewise, if one occupied a place of privilege within one’s world — say, for instance, that of Roman Imperator Caesar — an appeal to this sort of fate, or perhaps “manifest destiny,” looks like the sort of rationalization one might embrace to justify that privilege.
To be fair, though, Marcus Aurelius probably didn’t compose his Meditations for public consumption, but rather as a journal or daily devotional “To Himself” — which was the title under which it was first published. One finds within its pages many passages like this:
“Say to yourself first thing in the morning: today I shall meet people who are meddling, ungrateful, aggressive, treacherous, malicious, unsocial. All of this has afflicted them through their ignorance of true good and evil. But I have seen that the nature of good is what is right, and the nature of evil what is wrong; and I have reflected that the nature of the offender himself is akin to my own — not a kinship of blood or seed, but a sharing in the same mind, the same fragment of divinity. Therefore I cannot be harmed by any of them, as none will infect me with their wrong.” — Bk. II
Does the fact that he was writing a journal reveal Aurelius’s sincere commitment to Stoic virtue? Or, are the Meditations just empty virtue-signaling? Again, it’s difficult to say. After all, Aurelius MUST have known an emperor’s private thoughts would one day be of great public interest. Did he write with that in mind?
I suppose the real philosophical question is whether it’s even POSSIBLE for someone like Aurelius — or, for that matter, the folks behind the resurgence of Pop-Stoicism — to be AUTHENTIC Stoics.
Maybe it makes sense for someone whose life has been filled with strife to join in the Stoic refrain… but when folks for whom all of life’s obstacles have been removed start to hum that tune, it strikes me as particularly tone deaf.
The Nietzschean Challenge to Stoicism
Oddly enough, another philosopher often embraced in “dude-bro” circles — Friedrich Nietzsche — leveled some pretty scathing criticisms against Stoicism. In Beyond Good and Evil (1886), he took them to task for drawing arbitrary distinctions in their account of Nature:
“You desire to LIVE ‘according to Nature’? Oh, you noble Stoics, what fraud of words! Imagine to yourselves a being like Nature, boundlessly extravagant, boundlessly indifferent, without purpose or consideration, without pity or justice, at once fruitful and barren and uncertain…” — Ch. 1
After all, the passions are just as naturally a part of human beings as reason.
And, Nietzsche suggested, if the Stoic directive to follow nature means to simply “do what you do,” as Epictetus’s role ethics suggests, then in what sense is it a moral directive at all?
…granted that your imperative, “living according to Nature,” means actually the same as “living according to life” — how could you do DIFFERENTLY? Why should you make a principle out of what you yourselves are, and must be?
Finally, Nietzsche equated Stoicism with a kind of tyranny — over the self, nature, and others — precisely because it seeks to ORDER things that cannot be ordered. Pursuing the Stoic “well-ordered life” is, for Nietzsche, nothing short of a fool’s errand:
With all your love for truth, you have forced yourselves so long, so persistently, and with such hypnotic rigidity to see Nature FALSELY, that is to say, Stoically, that you are no longer able to see it otherwise — and to crown all, some unfathomable superciliousness gives you the Bedlamite hope that BECAUSE you are able to tyrannize over yourselves — Stoicism is self-tyranny — Nature will also allow herself to be tyrannized over: is not the Stoic a PART of Nature?…
Alright! That’s it for Part 20! Sorry it was so long, I didn’t have time to make it shorter!
Although this is the last official post of the series, you should stay tuned for a bonus entry on Hypatia and Neo-Platonism coming soon!
In the meantime… if you’ve enjoyed this series, you might also check out my “Series on the History of Chinese Philosophy.”
