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Stoicism

Some Ancient Stoic Poems

[Zeno of Citium]
The cold of winter and the ceaseless rain
Come powerless against him: weak the dart
Of the fierce summer sun or racking pain
To bend that iron frame. He stands apart
Unspoiled by public feast and jollity:
Patient, unwearied night and day doth he
Cling to his studies of philosophy.

Unknown author, quoted by Diogenes Laertius

[Zeno of Citium]
Here lies great Zeno, dear to Citium,
who scaled high Olympus,
though he piled not Pelion on Ossa,
nor toiled at the labours of Heracles,
but this was the path he found out to the stars
– the way of temperance alone.

The epitaph composed for him by Antipater of Sidon, from Diogenes Laertius

[Zeno of Citium]
Thou madest self-sufficiency thy rule,
Eschewing haughty wealth, O godlike Zeno,
With aspect grave and hoary brow serene.
A manly doctrine thine: and by thy prudence
With much toil thou didst found a great new school,
Chaste parent of unfearing liberty.
And if thy native country was Phoenicia,
What need to slight thee? came not Cadmus thence,
Who gave to Greece her books and art of writing?

Another epitaph, from Zenodotus, a pupil of the Stoic scholarch Diogenes of Babylon, quoted by Diogenes Laertius

[The Stoics]
O ye who’ve learnt the doctrines of the Porch
And have committed to your books divine
The best of human learning, teaching men
That the mind’s virtue is the only good!
She only it is who keeps the lives of men
And cities, – safer than high gates and walls.
But those who place their happiness in pleasure
Are led by the least worthy of the Muses.

Athenaeus the epigrammatist, quoted by Diogenes Laertius

[Epictetus]
Slave, poor as Irus, halting as I trod,
I, Epictetus, was the friend of God.

Anonymous ancient epigram.

[The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius]
If thou would’st master care and pain,
Unfold this book and read and read again
Its blessed leaves, whereby thou soon shalt see
The past, the present, and the days to be
With opened eyes; and all delight, all grief,
Shall be like smoke, as empty and as brief.

Epigram found at the end of Vatican manuscript and in the Anthologia Palatina.

[Phaenomena]
Let us begin with Zeus, whom we mortals never leave unspoken.
For every street, every market-place is full of Zeus.
Even the sea and the harbour are full of this deity.
Everywhere everyone is indebted to Zeus.
For we are indeed his offspring…

From Aratus’ Phaenomena, quoted by St. Paul as reported in Acts (17.28)

Categories
Stoicism

Animal Metaphors in Stoicism (Part 2): The Tripartite Division

Copyright © Donald Robertson, 2012. All rights reserved.

The Stoics believed that humans have both an animal and divine nature, a body and mind, passions and reason.  In essence, one of the fundamental goals in life is to fulfil our potential as rational animals, without degenerating back to the level of our brute animal nature.  Indeed, Epictetus goes so far as to say that when we behave like animals, in a sense, we temporarily “destroy” our own humanity.

Consider, then, from what you are distinguished by reason. You are distinguished from wild beasts; you are distinguished from cattle. Besides, you are a citizen of the universe, and a part of it; not a subordinate, but a principal part. (Discourses, 2)

Further, there is a general and a particular end. The first is, to act as a man. What is comprehended in this? To be gentle, yet not sheepish; not to be mischievous, like a wild beast. (Discourses, 3)

But having two things united in our composition, a body in common with the brutes, and reason in common with the gods, many incline to this unhappy and mortal kindred, and only some few to that which is happy and divine. (Discourses, 1)

Marcus Aurelius appears to make a similar observation about character, perhaps influenced by his reading of Epictetus:

About what am I now employing my own soul? On every occasion I must ask myself this question, and inquire, what have I now in this part of me which they call the ruling principle? And whose soul have I now? That of a child, or of a young man, or of a feeble woman, or of a tyrant, or of a domestic animal, or of a wild beast?  (Meditations, 5.11)

He elsewhere says:

Before ten days have passed, you shall rank as a god with those who hold you now as a wild beast or an ape, if you only turn back to your precepts and your reverence for reason. (Meditations, 4.16)

Seneca also wrote:

You are mistaken if you trust the expressions on the faces of those you meet; they have the features of men but the spirits of wild beasts, except that beasts are deadly at the first encounter but do not seek out those they have passed.  For only necessity incited them to do harm; they are compelled into battle either by hunger or fear, whereas a man delights in ruining another man. (Seneca, Letters, 103)

And elsewhere:

Why do you mention pleasure to me [as the chief good in life]?  I seek the good of a man, not of his belly, which has greater room in cattle and wild beasts. (On the Happy Life)

As we can see already, Epictetus, Marcus, and possibly also Seneca, distinguished between different types of animal nature.  Two broad categories are apparently employed, wild and domesticated animals, and these are sometimes further divided into different species.  However, humans constitute a third category (“rational animals”), and may probably be grouped with God (Zeus) whom the Stoics described as a perfect animal, his body being the whole of Nature.

  1. Rational animals, which are capable of wisdom and virtue, and include human beings and perhaps other rational beings, but also God (Zeus), the perfect rational animal, whose body is the whole of Nature, and whose “children” we are, having “sparks” or “fragments” of his rational nature within us.
  2. Wild beasts, which are described as savage and mischievous and seek to “kick or bite” (being contentious, injurious, passionate, and violent) and apparently include wolves (faithless, treacherous), lions (wild, savage, untamed), foxes (slanderous, ill-natured), vipers, and hornets
  3. Domestic animals, which are described as silly and overly-gentle (being gluttonous, lewd, rash, sordid, inconsiderate) and concerned mainly with their fodder, apparently including horses, cattle, sheep, and asses (irrational, stupid)

At any given time, though, we may progress to resemble Zeus, through reason and virtue, or degenerate, through irrationality or vice, into resembling either wild animals or cattle.  Tripartite divisions of character like this were also employed in Platonism and Pythagoreanism, although a direct comparison perhaps lies outside of our scope here.  However, notably, in The Phaedo, Plato’s Socrates, perhaps alluding to Pythagorean doctrines, suggests that men of different characters will be reincarnated as different types of animal:

Those, for example, who have carelessly practiced gluttony, violence and drunkenness are likely to join a company of donkeys or o similar animals. […]

Those who have esteemed injustice highly, and tyranny and plunder will join the tribes of wolves and hawks and kites, or where else shall we say that they go? […]

The happiest of these, who will also have the best destination are those who have practiced popular and social virtue, which they call moderation and justice and which was developed by habit and practice without philosophy or understanding?

How are they the happiest?

Because it is likely that they will again join a social and gentle group either of bees or wasps or ant, and then again the same kind of human group, and so be moderate men. […]

No one may join the company of the gods who has not practiced philosophy and is not completely pure when he departs from life, no one but the lover of learning. (Phaedo, 81e-c)

The Stoics appear to apply a similar distinction to the characters of men while they are still living.  Dio Chrysostom, a late 1st Century AD author influenced by Stoicism, in an essay on Diogenes the Cynic, suggests this may be related metaphorically to the famous transformation of Odysseus’ crewmates into animals by the witch Circe, in Homer’s Odyssey.

When she [Pleasure] once prevails, and has established an influence over the soul by her magic potions, then succeeds the metamorphosis of Circe, who strikes the victims with her wand, and afterwards finds no difficulty in compelling them to the close confinement of a sty: from which period they unchangeably continue to the latest period under the semblance of a swine, or wolf. Some also are transformed by Pleasure into Serpents; creatures, of a subtle and pernicious nature; and into reptiles of all descriptions. These attend upon her, and pay her homage; desirous of her enjoyments, and content in her service, but embarrassed at the same time by infinite vexations […] (Dio Chrysostom, On Diogenes, or Virtue)

The Stoics and Cynics wrote books on Homer and were keen on metaphorical interpretation of myths so it’s possible this analogy may have been derived from early Stoic or Cynic sources.  Indeed, we know that the precursor of the whole tradition, Antisthenes, wrote a book entitled On Circe.

The Stoics also explicitly refer to the metaphor of a mighty bull guarding the rest of a herd of cattle against attack from the lion.  They may also have in mind the image of a brave sheepdog (or a mighty ram) protecting the rest of a flock of sheep against attack from wolves.

Hence, different people appear to be classified by Stoics according to a kind of rough typology based on different animals:

It were no slight attainment, could we merely fulfil what the nature of man implies. For what is man? A rational and mortal being. Well; from what are we distinguished by reason? From wild beasts. From what else? From sheep, and the like. Take care, then, to do nothing like a wild beast; otherwise you have destroyed the man; you have not fulfilled what your nature promises. Take care too, to do nothing like cattle; for thus likewise the man is destroyed. In what do we act like cattle? When we act gluttonously, lewdly, rashly, sordidly, inconsiderately, into what are we sunk? Into cattle. What have we destroyed? The rational being. When we behave contentiously, injuriously, passionately, and violently, into what have we sunk? Into wild beasts. And further, some of us are wild beasts of a larger size; others little mischievous vermin, such as suggest the proverb. Let me rather be eaten by a lion. By all these means, that is destroyed which the nature of man implies. (Discourses, 2)

By means of this kinship with the flesh some of us, deviating towards it, become like: wolves, faithless, and treacherous, and mischievous; others, like lions, wild and savage and untamed; but most of us foxes, and other worse animals. For what else is a slanderous and ill-natured man but a fox, or something yet more wretched and mean? Watch and take heed, then, that you do not sink thus low. (Discourses, 1)

It’s our character that determines whether we are animals or rational beings, not just our outward appearance:

For is everything determined by a mere outward form? Then say, just as well, that a piece of wax is an apple, or that it has the smell and taste too. The external figure is not enough; nor, consequently, is it sufficient to constitute a man that he has a nose and eyes, if he have not the proper principles of a man. Such a one does not understand reason, or apprehend when he is confuted. He is like an ass. Another is dead to the sense of shame. He is a worthless creature; anything rather than a man. Another seeks whom he may kick or bite; so that he is neither sheep nor ass. But what then? He is a wild beast. (Discourses, 4)

The Stoics took the Delphic prescription to “know thyself” very seriously indeed, and for them this meant knowing that man’s essence is reason, and that it is his duty to protect his true nature.  Marcus Aurelius describes continually questioning his own character in this way, examining himself to see if he has abandoned reason and turned himself into something more akin to an animal:

Why, then, art thou disturbed? Say to the ruling faculty, Art thou dead, art thou corrupted, art thou playing the hypocrite, art thou become a beast, dost thou herd and feed with the rest? (Meditations)

Seneca wrote that although “farm animals” are free from desire and fear, this is not due to  the gift of reason, like the wise man.  He added:

Assign to the same category those people whose dull nature and lack of self-awareness have brought them down to the level of beasts of the field and animals.  There is no difference between these people and those creatures, since the latter have no reason, while the former have reason that is warped, and, because it expends its energy in the wrong direction, detrimental to themselves… (On the Happy Life)

The complex metaphor below, which appears to be loosely based on one attributed to Pythagoras, says a little more about the metaphor of domesticated animals such as horses and cattle:

As, in a crowded fair, the horses and cattle are brought to be sold, and most men come either to buy or sell; but there are a few who come only to look at the fair, and inquire how it is carried on, and why in that manner, and who appointed it, and for what purpose, thus, in this fair [of the world] some, like cattle, trouble themselves about nothing but fodder. To all of you who busy yourselves about possessions and farms and domestics and public posts, these things are nothing else but mere fodder. But there are some few men among the crowd who are fond of looking on, and considering: “What then, after all, is the world? Who governs it? Has it no governor? How is it possible, when neither a city nor a house can remain, ever so short a time, without some one to govern and take care of it, that this vast and beautiful system should be administered in a fortuitous and disorderly manner? Is there then a governor? Of what sort is he, and how does he govern? And what are we who are under him, and for what designed? Have we some connection and relation to him, or none?” In this manner are the few affected, and apply themselves only to view the fair, and then depart. Well; and they are laughed at by the multitude? Why, are the lookers-on, by the buyers and sellers; and if the cattle had any apprehension, they too would laugh at such as admired anything but fodder. (Discourses, 2)

This also recalls a saying of Musonius Rufus, Epictetus’ teacher:

Nature has made us spectators of the world and the things in it by endowing us (but not animals) with reason.  She expects us to emulate the gods who are our ultimate leaders, benefactors, and parents. (Letter to Pankratides)

Musonius also says something about gluttons that may be related:

In their inability to keep their hands and eyes off food, they resemble pigs or dogs more than humans.  […] Their behaviour towards food is very shameful; this is proved by the fact that we compare them to brute animals rather than to intelligent human beings. (Lecture About Food)

Marcus also mentions perhaps a different analogy, relating to the pig, which is apparently viewed as a sacrificial animal, struggling futilely against its fate:

Imagine every man who is grieved at anything or discontented to be like a pig which is sacrificed and kicks and screams.  Like this pig also is he who on his bed in silence laments the bonds in which we are held. And consider that only to the rational animal is it given to follow voluntarily what happens; but simply to follow is a necessity imposed on all. (Meditations)

In addition to various domestic animals, a variety of other wild beasts are mentioned.  In discussing the example of Medea, Epictetus refers to her as degenerating also to the level of a viper (Discourses, 1) and elsewhere to those who do harm to others and consequently suffer by damaging their own character, becoming like a “wolf, a viper, or a hornet” (Discourses, 4).  This analogy between the irrational man and the wild animal can perhaps be traced to the early Stoics:

And [the Stoics say every base man] is also wild since he is a man hostile to the lawful way of life, beastlike, and harmful.  This same fellow is untamed and tyrannical, having a disposition to perform despotic actions as well as ferocious and violent and illegal actions when he gets the chance.  He is also ungrateful, not having an affinity either with returning or with offering gratitude since he does nothing for the common good or for friendship or without calculation.  (Stobaeus in The Stoic Reader, p. 145)

When we become like animals we engage in a kind of implicit transaction, through which we make a loss rather than a profit, “selling” our humanity and rationality in exchange for some external thing we’re desperate to obtain, such as the iron lamp Epictetus lost one night to a thief:

Thus I, for instance, lost my lamp, because the thief was better at keeping awake than I. But for that lamp he paid the price of becoming a thief; for that lamp he lost his virtue and became like a wild beast. This seemed to him a good bargain; and so let it be! (Discourses, 1)

If, instead of a man – a gentle, social creature – you have become a wild beast, mischievous, insidious, biting, have you lost nothing? Is it only the loss of money which is reckoned damage; and is there no other thing, the loss of which damages a man? (Discourses, 2)

Musonius Rufus explains:

Indeed, plotting how to bite back someone who bites and to return evil against the one who first did evil is characteristic of a beast, not a man.  A beast is not able to comprehend that many of the wrongs done to people are done out of ignorance and a lack of understanding.  A person who gains this comprehension immediately stops doing wrong.

It is characteristic of a civilized and humane temperament not to respond to wrongs as a beast would and not to be implacable towards those who offend, but to provide them with a  model of decent behaviour. (Lecture on whether a philosopher will file a suit against someone for assault)

However, there are some positive qualities that even wild beasts and sheep have, which some humans appear to lack:

Not even a sheep, or a wolf, deserts its offspring; and shall man? What would you have, that we should be as silly as sheep? Yet even these do not desert their offspring. Or as savage as wolves? Neither do these desert them. (Discourses, 1)

At one point Epictetus complains that his students are like lions in the school but foxes outside of it, forgetting their philosophical principles and reverting to their crude animal nature.  Foxes are generally disparaged as “slanderous and ill-natured” but lions are not always held in much esteem by Epictetus and, as we shall see, they are more often wild beasts who threaten the weak.  Some ancient philosophers appear to have employed the lion as a metaphor for the tyrant, which could possibly be Epictetus’ meaning, although he perhaps has something more general in mind.

Writing much later, toward the end of the classical period, Boethius (c. 480-534AD) employs a similar metaphor in his Consolation of Philosophy.  Boethius was influenced primarily by the Christian and Neoplatonic traditions that dominated during this period.  However, he was also clearly influenced by Stoicism, and describes himself in the opening passages as being “nourished on the philosophies of Zeno and Plato” (Consolation, 1.1).

You could say that someone who robs with violence and burns with greed is like a wolf.  A wild and restless man who is for ever exercising his tongue in lawsuits could be compared to a dog yapping.  A man whose habit is to lie hidden in an ambush and steal by trapping people would be likened to a fox.  A man of quick temper has only to roar to gain the reputation of a lion-heart.  The timid coward who is terrified when there is nothing to fear is thought to be like the hind.  The man who is lazy, dull and stupid, lives an ass’s life.  A man of whimsy and fickleness who is for ever changing his interest is just like a bird.  And a man wallowing in foul and impure lusts is occupied by the filthy pleasures of a sow.  So what happens is that when a man abandons goodness and ceases to be human, being unable to rise to a divine condition, he sinks to the level of being an animal. (Consolation, 4.2)

Boethius says that through vice the wicked actually cease to be what they once were by losing their human nature.  Whereas only goodness can raise us toward the level of God, wickedness reduces us to the level of animals by destroying our humanity.  He puts it succinctly as follows: “though they retain the outward appearance of the human body, wicked people change into animals with regard to their state of mind”.  He relates the notion of humans reverting to various animal natures to the well-known story of Odysseus and Circe in Homer’s Odyssey.  However, Circe’s magic only changed the outward appearance of Odysseus’ crew into animals, whereas the poison of vice penetrates and transforms our innermost character, our very souls:

Those poisons, though, are stronger,
Which creeping deep within,
Dethrone a man’s true self:
They do not harm the body,
But cruelly wound the mind. (Consolation, 4.2)

Categories
Stoicism

The Hymn to Zeus by Cleanthes

The Hymn to Zeus by Cleanthes

Brief excerpt quoted in Epictetus’ Enchiridion and the Epistles of Seneca:

Lead me on, O Zeus, and thou Destiny,
To that goal long ago to me assigned.
I’ll follow readily but if my will prove weak;
Wretched as I am, I must follow still.
Fate guides the willing, but drags the unwilling.

The longer version found in the Anthology of Stobaeus begins:

Most glorious of the  immortals, called by many names, ever almighty
Zeus, leader of nature, guiding everything with law,
Hail!  For it is right that all mortals should address you,
since all are descended from you and imitate your voice,
alone of all the mortals which live and creep upon the earth.
So I will sing your praises and hymn your might always.

Categories
Stoicism

Contented with Little by Robert Burns

[My translation into Standard English from The Philosophy of Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy.  Burns’ poem arguably exhibits the influence of Stoic and Epicurean themes.]

Contented with little and joyous with more,
Whenever I meet with Sorrow and Care,
I gave them a slap, as they’re creeping along,
With a cup o’ good ale and an auld Scottish song.

I oft’ scratch the elbow o’ troublesome Thought;
But Man is a soldier, and Life must be fought.
My mirth and good humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom’s my Lairdship no monarch dare touch.

A twelve-month o’ trouble, should my fortune fall,
A night o’ good fellowship fixes it all:
When at the blithe end of our journey at last,
Who the Hell ever thinks o’ the road he has passed?

Blind Chance, let her stumble and stagger on her way,
Be it to me, or from me, even, let the slut stray!
Come Ease, or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My worst words are:– “Welcome, and welcome again!”

– Robert Burns, 1794.

Categories
Stoicism

The Old Stoic by Emily Brontë

The Old Stoic

Riches I hold in light esteem,
And love I laugh to scorn,
And lust of fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn.

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, “Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!”

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
‘Tis all that I implore –
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.

From Poems of Solitude by Emily Brontë

Categories
Stoicism

Animal Metaphors in Stoicism (Part 1): The Bull and the Lion

Zeus carrying Europa

Although this notion is seldom discussed in detail, readers of Stoic literature may notice frequent references to animals, often being employed as metaphors for different character types.  For example, in A Man in Full (1998), the novel by Tom Wolfe, two of the leading characters become enthusiastic followers of Epictetus’ form of Stoicism.  They are particularly inspired by his references to the image of a strong bull who naturally steps forward to protect the weaker members of the herd from attack by a lion.  Indeed, one of the chapters entitled “The Bull and the Lion”, contains the following exchange:

“That’s fine,” said Charlie, “but how do you know what your character is?  Let’s say there’s a crisis you’ve got to deal with.  How do you know what you’re really made of?”

“Epictetus talks about that,” said Conrad, “He says, how does a bull, when a lion’s coming after him, and he has to protect the whole herd – how does he know what powers he’s got?  He knows because it has taken him a long time to become powerful.  Like the bull, a man doesn’t become heroic all of a sudden, either.  Epictetus says, ‘He must train through the winter and make ready.'”

In part 2 of this article, I describe how the Stoics made a division between rational animals (humans and gods) and non-rational animals, further subdivided into wild animals, like wolves and lions, and domestic animals, like cattle and sheep.

Even among non-rational animals, though, some excel in terms of their nature and this is something Epictetus frequently refers to, particularly using the metaphor of the strong bull who protects the rest of the herd.  Seneca briefly alludes to this in the play Phaedra, when he writes: “Goaded on by love, the bold bull undertakes battle for the whole herd.”

The Stoics worshipped Zeus and refer to him frequently throughout their writings.  Epictetus does not explicitly state that the image of the bull is linked to Zeus and so we cannot assume he has that in mind.  However, it’s likely that most of his students would have easily connected the two ideas as Zeus was often symbolised as a white bull, as in the image shown here in which Zeus is carrying Europa.  Although cattle in general are sometimes looked down upon in Epictetus’ Discourses, the bull is several times praised as a metaphor for an exceptional or good man, i.e., the ideal Stoic Sage:

It was asked, How shall each of us perceive what belongs to his character? Whence, replied Epictetus, does a bull, when the lion approaches, alone recognize his own qualifications, and expose himself alone for the whole herd? It is evident that with the qualifications occurs, at the same time, the consciousness of being imbued with them. And in the same manner, whoever of us hath such qualifications will not be ignorant of them. But neither is a bull nor a gallant-spirited man formed all at once. We are to exercise, and qualify ourselves, and not to run rashly upon what doth not concern us. (Discourses, 1)

Here one ought nobly to say, “I am he who ought to take care of mankind.” For it is not every little paltry heifer that dares resist the lion; but if the bull should come up, and resist him, would you say to him, “Who are you? What business is it of yours?” In every species, man, there is some one quality which by nature excels, – in oxen, in dogs, in bees, in horses. Do not say to whatever excels, “Who are you?” If you do, it will, somehow or other, find a voice to tell you, “I am like the purple thread in a garment. Do not expect me to be like the rest; nor find fault with my nature, which has distinguished me from others.” (Discourses, 3)

You are a calf; when the lion appears, act accordingly, or you will suffer for it. You are a bull; come and fight; for that is incumbent on you and becomes you, and you can do it. (Discourses, 3)

The bull is clearly equated with the “good man” below, a synonym for the Sage, and the metaphor of a hunting dog is employed in a similar manner:

For who that is charged with such principles, but must perceive, too, his own powers, and strive to put them in practice. Not even a bull is ignorant of his own powers, when any wild beast approaches the herd, nor waits he for any one to encourage him; nor does a dog when he spies any game. And if I have the powers of a good man, shall I wait for you to qualify me for my own proper actions? (Discourses, 4)

In another passage he employs a similar metaphor, equating the role of the bull with that of the queen bee:

But what have you to do with the concerns of others? For what are you? Are you the bull in the herd, or the queen of the bees? Show me such ensigns of empire as she has from nature. But if you are a drone, and arrogate to yourself the kingdom of the bees, do you not think that your fellow-citizens will drive you out, just as the bees do the drones? (Discourses, 3)

Marcus Aurelius, who had almost certainly read the Discourses, perhaps even the four books lost today, mentions a similar metaphor, which he extends to the ram who guards the flock of sheep:

If any have offended against thee, consider first: What is my relation to men, and that we are made for one another; and in another respect, I was made to be set over them, as a ram over the flock or a bull over the herd. (Meditations)

Curiously, Seneca also says something quite similar, perhaps shedding some light on the original meaning of the metaphor in Stoicism:

But the earliest mortals and those of their descendants who pursued nature without being spoiled shared the same guide and law, being entrusted to the decisions of a superiors, since it is natural for inferior things to give way to more powerful ones.  Take herds of dumb animals: either the biggest or the strongest creatures have command.  It is not the bull inferior to his breeding but the one who surpasses the other males in size and muscle who goes before the herds; it is the tallest elephant who leads the troupe; among men, “the best” replaces “the biggest”.  So the ruler used to be chosen for his intellect, and the greatest happiness among nations was enjoyed by those among whom only the superior man could be more powerful.  A man can safely enjoy as much power as he wishes if he believes he only has power to act as he should. (Seneca, Letters, 90)

The presence of a similar metaphor in Seneca suggests that he and Epictetus, and perhaps Marcus, are alluding to a common Stoic source from an earlier period.

Likewise, Cicero portrays the Stoic Cato employing the same trope in his account of Stoic Ethics:

Nature has given bulls the instinct to defend their calves against lions with immense passion and force.  In the same way, those with great talent and the capacity for achievement, as is said of Hercules and Liber, have a natural inclination to help the human race. (De Finibus, Book III)

However, intriguingly, there is some evidence that Zeno employed the metaphor of a herd of cattle to describe the ideal Stoic community in The Republic, which was quite possibly the founding text of Stoicism.  For example, according to Plutarch:

It is true indeed that the so much admired Republic of Zeno, first author of the Stoic sect, aims singly at this, that neither in cities nor in towns we should live under laws distinct one from another, but that we should look upon all people in general to be our fellow-countryfolk and citizens, observing one manner of living and one kind of order, like a flock [or herd of cattle] feeding together with equal right in one common pasture. This Zeno wrote, fancying to himself, as in a dream, a certain scheme of civil order, and the image of a philosophical commonwealth. (Plutarch, On the Fortune of Alexander, 329A-C)

This suggests that Zeno may have introduced the metaphor of the ideal Stoic Republic as consisting of a herd of cattle led by a bull.  Indeed, the early Stoic school itself was a small community perhaps intended to be modelled on this ideal to some extent, so Zeno himself, or the subsequent scholarchs of the school, may have been seen as analogous to the bull in this imagery.

Categories
Stoicism

A Crash Course in Stoicism

In his discourse entitled “we ought not to yearn for things that are not under our control” (Discourses, 3.24), the Stoic philosopher Epictetus, described three steps used to cope with apparent misfortunes.  He intended that these should be rigorously rehearsed until they become habitual…

Have thoughts like these ready at hand by night and by day; write them, read them, make your conversation about them, communing with yourself, or saying to another, “Can you give me some help in this matter?”

Later he says:

If you have these thoughts always at hand and go over them again and again in your own mind, and keep them in readiness, you will never need another person to console you, or strengthen you.

Speaking to a group of aspiring Stoic students, he outlines the recommended steps to be memorised and rehearsed as follows.

Step One: Tell yourself it was to be expected.

Your initial response when something apparently “undesirable” happens should be to tell yourself that it was “not unexpected”, and this “will be the first thing to lighten the burden”, according to Epictetus.  This is made easier by regularly anticipating potential setbacks that can happen in life, imagining what it would be like to face typical misfortunes philosophically.  This is sometimes called premeditatio malorum by Stoics, or the technique of contemplating potential misfortunes in advance.  In particular, the Stoics frequently remind themselves that both they and their loved ones are mortal, and bound to die one day, and that life is inevitably transient.  Here Epictetus simply says, however, that when adversity comes we should greet it by reminding ourselves not to be surprised but to recognise that we knew all along that this sort of thing can potentially happen in life.

Step Two: Tell yourself that it is indifferent to your wellbeing.

This is sometimes described as the “Sovereign precept” of ancient Stoicism: Some things are under our control and some things are not.  Only things under our control reflect on our character and therefore constitute our wellbeing, i.e., our judgements and acts of will are our own business and when they are done well we may be described as being wise and good.  Things outside of our control, such as health, wealth and reputation are indifferent with regard to our own character and therefore our happiness and wellbeing.  Epictetus says you should consider where the misfortune comes from, and if it is an external event, tell yourself:

It comes from the quarter of the things that are outside the sphere of volition, that are not my own; what, then, is it to me?

The typical answer Stoics give to that rhetorical question is: “It is nothing to me.”  In fact, one of Epictetus’ basic maxims is that things beyond our volition, outside of our control, are “nothing to us.”  Epictetus also advised his students, perhaps literally, to say very concisely to themselves either “avolitional, not bad!” (aproaireton, ou kakon), to apparent external misfortunes, or “volitional, good!” (proairetikon, agathon), to virtuous responses, and so on.

For Stoics, the ultimate good in life is to possess wisdom, justice, and other virtues, and to act according to them.  The vicissitudes of fate, external events, the wheel of fortune that sometimes raises us up and at other times casts us down, is “indifferent” with regard to our own character and virtue and, in that sense, of no concern with regard to our true wellbeing as rational agents.

Step Three: Remind yourself that it was determined by the whole.

Epictetus describes the third and last stage of the Stoics response as “the most decisive consideration”.  We should ask ourselves who has ordained that this should happen: “Who was it that has sent the order?”  The answer is that it was sent by God, or, if you like, it should be viewed as having been determined by the “string of causes” that constitute the universe as a whole, which Stoics call “Nature”.  The Stoic therefore tells himself: “Give it to me, then, for I must always obey the law in every particular.”  In other words, he sees events outside of his control as necessary, determined by the whole of Nature, or fated by the Will of God, and he actively accepts them as such.  This may simply be another way of stating the importance that philosophical “determinism” has for Stoics, the belief that all things happen of necessity and are caused by the totality of the universe.  When we tell ourselves that events come as no surprise, that they lie outside the domain of our concern, and that they could not have been otherwise, and form part of the unfolding pattern of universal Nature, we may achieve the wisdom and serenity in the face of adversity that Stoics aspire to, and call a “smooth flow of life.”

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Stoicism

Epictetus on Natural or Family Affection

This is a story recorded in the Discourses of Epictetus, in the chapter on philostorgia, meaning “natural affection” or “family affection” (Discourses, 1.11).  A magistrate came to see Epictetus one day and mentioned that his experience of married life had been miserable.  Epictetus replied that we marry and have children to flourish and be happy (eudaimon) rather than to be miserable, and so he was curious what had gone wrong.  The man said that recently when his young daughter was dangerously ill, he found it so unbearable that he ran from her bedside in distress, only to return when someone brought word that she had recovered.  He also said he believed being overwhelmed with distress was a natural response and that this was the right thing to do because “this is the way most fathers would feel” if their beloved child were dying.  Epictetus maintained the Stoic view that what is done according to nature is right but he questioned whether this man’s response was genuinely the most natural one, despite the fact that it might be what most fathers, in that period, would feel like doing.  Epictetus notes that although to err is common, and that physical tumours are common, we don’t assume that these occur for our own good or that they’re what our natures intended.  Being common and being natural are two different things.  When Epictetus then asks the man what criterion he would use to determine whether some action is natural and rightly done, or not, he says he has no idea.  Epictetus sees this lack of a criterion for the good, for what is natural, as the greatest harm that can befall someone, and he therefore beseeches the magistrate to discover this criterion and to then use it to decide each individual case that confronts him in life.

However, in the meantime, Epictetus gave him the following advice about the case of his child.  He first asks whether family affection (philostorgia) seems to the magistrate both to accord with nature and to be good or noble, which it does, without question.  This is a premise they can both agree upon for the time being: that family affection is both natural and morally good.  Epictetus also established that he takes for granted the view that what is rational with regard to life is good.  He adds that if both family affection and living rationally are genuinely morally good then they should not contradict each other.  Moreover, if they were in conflict, at least one of them would have to be unnatural but living rationally and loving one’s family are both assumed to be natural by the magistrate.  Family affection and living rationally are therefore both agreed to be morally good and consistent with each other.  However, the magistrate admits that fleeing his child’s bedside is not rational, although he feels it may have been an expression of his love and affection for her.

Epictetus invokes what modern cognitive therapists call the “double-standards” strategy by asking the magistrate whether he would consider it loving and affectionate of others, such as the child’s mother or nurse, to act as he had done and flee her bedside.  Would it make sense to say that those who love his daughter the most should, because of their great love for her, leave her potentially to die in the arms of others who do not love her as much?  Likewise, the magistrate admits that if he had been dying himself, he would not want those who love him the most, including his wife and children, to express their affection by running from his bedside and abandoning him to die alone.  Epictetus points out that if this is how love manifests itself, it would make more sense to wish that one’s enemies loved one more than one’s friends, and that they would keep their distance as a result.  This is what philosophers call a reductio ad absurdum, the favoured debating technique of Socrates, in which careful questioning leads an individual to recognise that their position is inherently contradictory and nonsensical.  It leads to the revised conclusion that the magistrate’s flight from his daughter’s bedside was not really an act of love or family affection at all but rather something else.    The act of running away was a form of avoidance, like covering your eyes, and the result of a fundamental decision to conclude that escape is preferable to endurance of the painful situation.  As Epictetus put it, “the cause of your running away was just that you wanted to do so; and another time, if you stay with her, it will be because you wanted to stay.”  It is not external events that cause our actions but our own opinions and decisions, otherwise everyone would respond in the same way to the same events.  Therefore, Epictetus concludes, the magistrate should attribute his actions not to external events, like the illness of his child, which are outside his direct control, but rather to his own voluntary decisions, and that it should become his priority in life to study these closely and patiently and determine whether they are natural and morally good or  not.

Categories
Stoicism

The System of Stoic Philosophy

This article attempts to summarise some of the structured elements of the early Stoic philosophical system, such as the tripartite classification of the topics of philosophy, the virtues, the passions, and their subdivisions, etc., as reputedly described by the primary sources.  It’s still a work in progress, see please feel free to post comments or corrections.

The Parts of Philosophy

From Diogenes Laertius (7.38-41)

Zeno introduced the tripartite division of philosophy in his book On Rational Discourse.  Whereas some Stoics say the three parts of philosophy are mixed and taught together, Zeno, Chrysippus, and others, put them in the following order:

  1. Logic
  2. Physics
  3. Ethics

However, Plutarch says that Chrysippus thought the parts should be studied as follows (Early Stoics, p. 9):

  1. Logic
  2. Ethics
  3. Physics (and theology)

(Later, Epictetus said that the Discipline of Assent, which is linked to logic, should be studied last, as it is important to master the other aspects of Stoicism first.)

Cleanthes divided philosophy into six parts, however.

  1. Dialectic
  2. Rhetoric
  3. Ethics
  4. Politics
  5. Physics
  6. Theology

Several metaphors are used in conjunction with this tripartite division of philosophy.  They appear to differ in terms of whether physics or logic is made central, but logic is perhaps consistently described as providing stability and structure.  For example, philosophy is like an animal:

  • Logic = The bones and sinews
  • Ethics = The fleshier parts
  • Physics = The soul

Philosophy is like an egg:

  • Logic = The shell
  • Ethics = The egg white
  • Physics = The yolk

Philosophy is like a productive field:

  • Logic = The surrounding wall
  • Ethics = The fruit
  • Physics = The land and trees

Philosophy is also like a city “which is beautifully fortified and administered according to reason.”  According to Sextus Empiricus, Posidonius compared philosophy to an animal, as follows (Stoic Reader, p. 9):

  • Physics = The flesh and blood
  • Logic = The bones and sinews
  • Ethics = The soul

Ethics & The Virtues

From Diogenes Laertius (7.84-131).

The early Stoics define “the good” as encompassing three senses:

  1. The most fundamental sense is that through which it is possible to be benefitted, which corresponds mainly to the virtues
  2. In addition, the good includes that according to which being benefitted is a typical result, which refers both to the virtues and to specific virtuous actions
  3. Finally, the good includes that which is such as to benefit, namely the Wise man himself, true friends, and the gods, who engage in virtuous actions and possess the virtues

Praiseworthy men are often referred to as “good and honourable” in ancient Greek literature.  Hence, the good in Stoicism is described as being synonymous with what is both beneficial and honourable (or praiseworthy).  Alternatively, Diogenes Laertius gives the following list of synonyms for the perfect good, according to the early Stoics all good (agathon) is inherently:

  • Advantageous or expedient (sumpheron), “because it brings [instrumentally] such things as we are benefitted by when they occur”
  • Morally binding, a duty (deon), “because it holds together in cases where this is needed”
  • Profitable, repaying more than was expended (lusiteles), “because it pays back what is expended on it, so that it exceeds in benefit a mere repayment of the effort”
  • Useful for things (chreisimon), “because it makes available the use of a benefit”
  • Well-used or artfully-used (euchrêston), “because it renders the use of it praiseworthy” (by contrast, the indifferents can be used either well or badly)
  • Honourable or beautiful (kalon), “because it is symmetrical with its own use” also “because it has all the features sought by nature or because it is perfectly symmetrical” and “the honourable uniquely means that which makes those who possess it praiseworthy”
  • Beneficial (ôphelimon), “because it is such as to benefit”
  • Worth choosing or to be chosen (haireton), “because it is such that it is reasonable to choose it”
  • Just (dikaion), “because it is consonant with law and instrumental to a sense of community”

Some of these terms are central to Stoic ethical theory.

Although Zeno and Cleanthes did not divide things in such detail, the followers of Chrysippus and others Stoics classify the sub-divisions of ethics as follows:

  1. On impulse
  2. On good and bad things
  3. On passions
  4. On virtue
  5. On the goal
  6. On primary value
  7. On actions
  8. On appropriate actions
  9. On encouragements and discouragements to action

Diogenes Laertius says that whereas Panaetius divided virtues into two kinds (theoretical and practical), other Stoics divided the virtues into logical, ethical and physical.  According to Aetius also, there are three categories of virtue, which correspond with the three divisions of philosophy: physics, ethics, and logic (Stoic Reader, p. 9).  He doesn’t say what these virtues are, but we might speculate:

  1. Physics = Self-Control (Courage & Moderation, two of the cardinal virtues)
  2. Ethics = Justice
  3. Logics = Wisdom (or Prudence)

Panaetius, anyway, says that there are two [kinds of] virtues, theoretical and practical; others [divide virtue into] logical, physical, and ethical.  Posidonious’ followers [say there are] four, and those of Cleanthes and Chrysippus and Antipater [say there are even] more.  But Apollophanes says there is one virtue, namely, prudence. (Diogenes Laertius, in Early Stoics, p. 115)

Although Chryssipus and other Stoics claimed that all virtues are essentially one, most Stoics appear to have agreed that there are four “primary” virtues, common to other ancient schools of philosophy:

  1. Prudence or Practical Wisdom (Phronesis), sometimes just called Wisdom (Sophia), which opposes the vice of “ignorance”
  2. Justice or Integrity (Dikaiosune), which opposes the vice of “injustice”
  3. Fortitude or Courage (Andreia), which opposes the vice of “cowardice”
  4. Temperance or Moderation (Sophrosune), which opposes the vice of “wantonness”

These are defined as forms of knowledge (q.v., Stobaeus in Early Stoics, p. 125-130):

  1. Prudence is knowledge of which things are good, bad, and neither; or “appropriate acts”.
  2. Temperance is knowledge of which things are to be chosen, avoided, and neither; or stable “human impulses”.
  3. Justice is the knowledge of the distribution of proper value to each person; or fair “distributions”.
  4. Courage is knowledge of what is terrible, what is not terrible, and what is neither; or “standing firm”.

The cardinal virtues are also sub-divided as follows:

  1. Prudence takes the form of deliberative excellence, good calculation, quick-wittedness, good sense, good sense of purpose, and resourcefulness.
  2. Temperance takes the form of organisation, orderliness, modesty, and self-control.
  3. Justice takes the form of piety, good-heartedness, public spiritedness, and fair dealing.
  4. Courage takes the form of endurance, confidence, great-heartedness, stout-heartedness, and love of work.

Diogenes Laertius also says that Chrysippus and others sub-divide the virtues as follows:

  1. Prudence primarily takes the form of good counsel (euboulia) and understanding (sunesis)
  2. Temperance primarily takes the form of good self-discipline (eutaxia) and propriety/decorum (kosmistês)
  3. Justice primarily takes the form of impartiality/fairness (isotês) and kindness (eugnômosunê)
  4. Courage primarily takes the form of constancy/determination (aparallaxia) and tension/vigour (eutonia)

A famous slogan of Epictetus, anechou kai apechou, is usually translated as “bear and forbear” or “endure and renounce”.  According to Gellius:

The same Epictetus […] was in the habit of saying that there were two vices which are far more severe and atrocious than all others, want of endurance and want of self-control, when we do not endure or bear the wrongs which we have to bear, or do not abstain from, or forbear, those matters and pleasures which we out to forbear.  “And so,” he says, “if a man should take to heart these two words and observe them in controlling and keeping watch over himself, he will, for the most part, be free from wrongdoing, and will live a highly peaceful life.”  These two words, he used to say, were anechou and apechou.

This can perhaps be seen to correlate with the two virtues relating to self-control in the broad sense: courage and temperance.  It’s possible that these two complementary virtues both correspond somehow with the discipline of Stoic physics and with the passions, as follows:

  1. Endure (bear), through the virtue of courage, whatever irrational pain or suffering would otherwise be feared and avoided
  2. Renounce (forbear), through the virtue of temperance (or moderation), whatever irrational pleasures would otherwise be desired and pursued

Diogenes Laertius also mentions several additional Stoic virtues: magnanimity (megalopsuchia), self-control (enkrateia), patience/endurance (karteria), presence of mind (anchinoia), and good counsel (euboulia).

According to Chrysippus and other Stoics, the main examples of indifferent things, being neither good nor bad, are listed as pairs of opposites (Diogenes Laertius, 7.102):

  1. Life and death
  2. Health and disease
  3. Pleasure and pain
  4. Beauty and ugliness
  5. Strength and weakness
  6. Wealth and poverty
  7. Good reputation and bad reputation
  8. Noble birth and low birth
  9. …and other such things.

The Irrational Passions

According to Zeno, the passions are defined as essentially voluntary responses, which can be described as (Diogenes Laertius, 7.109):

  1. Irrational (alogos) judgements
  2. Unnatural (para phusin) movements of the soul
  3. Excessive impulses (hormê pleonazousa)

According to Zeno, the most general division of these irrational passions is into four categories:

  1. Pain or suffering (lupê), an “irrational contraction” of the soul, over the failure to avoid something judged bad or to obtain something judged good
  2. Fear (phobos), the (irrational) “expectation of something bad”
  3. Craving (epithumia), an “irrational striving” for something judged to be good
  4. Pleasure (hêdonê), an “irrational elation over what seems to be worth choosing”, i.e., what is judged good

These can be subdivided as follows (following Diogenes Laertius but also Stobaeus, in Stoic Reader, pp. 138-139):

  1. Pain can take the form of pity, grudging, envy, resentment, heavyheartedness, congestion, sorrow, anguish, or confusion.  Or according to Stobaeus, envy, grudging, resentment, pity, grief, heavyheartedness, distress, sorrow, anguish, and vexation.
  2. Fear can take the form of dread, hesitation, shame, shock, panic, or agony.  Or according to Stobaeus, hesitation, agony, shock, shame, panic, superstition, fright, and dread.
  3. Craving can take the form of want, hatred, quarrelsomeness, anger, sexual love, wrath, or spiritedness.  Or according to Stobaeus, anger (e.g., spiritedness, irascibility, wrath, rancor, bitterness, etc.), vehement sexual desire, longings and yearnings, love of pleasure, love of wealth, love of reputation, etc.
  4. Pleasure can take the form of enchantment, mean-spirited satisfaction, enjoyment, or rapture.  Or according to Stobaeus, mean-spirited satisfaction, contentment, charms, etc.

The Good Passions

In addition to the irrational, excessive or unnatural (unhealthy) passions, there are also corresponding “good passions”.  Diogenes Laertius says that good passions such as joy (chara) and cheerfulness (euphrosunos) are not strictly-speaking virtues but that they “supervene” on the virtues, and he also describes them as being more transitory than virtues.  These fall into three categories, because no good state corresponds with emotional pain (suffering) or contraction of the soul (Diogenes Laertius, 7.116).

  1. Joy or delight (chara), a rational elation over the good, which is the alternative to irrational pleasure
  2. Caution or discretion (eulabeia), a rational avoidance of the bad, which is the alternative to irrational fear
  3. Wishing or willing (boulêsis), a rational striving for the good, which is the alternative to irrational desire

A.A. Long actually translates boulêsis as “well-wishing”, which perhaps suggests a connection with “natural affection” (philostorgia).  It’s sometimes unclear whether these healthy passions are directed toward externals or virtues.  Marcus Aurelius refers to discerning which indifferent things are in accord with nature and taking delight in them (chara), while they last, but also to taking delight in his friend’s virtues.  It’s possible that they are intended to refer both to virtues and also to the rational desire for preferred indifferents and avoidance of dispreferred ones, pursued lightly.

The good passions can be subdivided as follows:

  1. Joy can take the form of enjoyment/delight (terpsis), good spirits/cheer (euphrosunos), or tranquility/contentment (euthumia)
    • Translated as enjoyment, delight, and contentment by Inwood and Gerson; as delight, sociability, and cheerfulness by Long and Sedley.
  2. Caution can take the form of self-respect/modesty/dignity (aidô) or sanctity/purity/chastity (agneia)
    • Translated as respect and sanctity by Inwood and Gerson; as respect and cleanliness by Long and Sedley.
  3. Wishing can take the form of goodwill/benevolence (eunoia), kindness/graciousness (eumeneia, or sometimes eumenês), acceptance/welcoming (aspasmos) or contentment/affection (agapêsis)
    • Translated as goodwill, kindliness, acceptance, and contentment by Inwood and Gerson; as kindness, generosity, warmth, and affection by Long and Sedley.

These are clearly important concepts in Stoicism.  The Sage is cheerful even in adversity, and contented in life.  However, the form of caution that seems most often mentioned is a kind of decency or modesty that makes the Sage averse to engaging in folly and vice.  (Perhaps also making him mildly averse to the company of bad men.)  The concept of wishing or willing seems focused mainly on goodwill toward other people, although it could also mean wishing oneself well, a kind of rational self-love.

The  distinction can be made between rational and irrational passions as follows:

  1. Elation (eparsis) can take the form of rational joy (chara) or irrational pleasure (hêdonê)
  2. Aversion (ekklisis), or the impulse to avoid something judged to be bad, can take the form of rational discretion (eulabeia) or irrational fear (phobos)
  3. Desire (orexis), or the impulse to get something judged to be good can take the form of rational willing (boulêsis) or irrational craving (epithumia)
  4. There is no rational form of pain or suffering (lupê), in the Stoic sense

The healthy passion of caution (or discretion) concerning the bad, and its subordinate passions of self-respect and chastity, appears to particularly resemble the virtue of temperance.  The healthy passion of wishing (or willing) the good appears to mainly encompass love (agapêsis), and related affects, such as goodwill, kindness, acceptance and affection.  This is the rational alternative to anger and sexual lust, or irrational desire.  It may be particularly related to the most obviously “social” virtue: justice.  (A passage in Stobaeus appears to claim that for the Stoics, philia, love or friendship, was actually a species of the virtue justice.)

The Three Disciplines of Epictetus

In addition to the distinctions made in earlier Stoic writings, Epictetus seems to describe a tripartite distinction between three practical disciplines also called topoi, the same term used for the “parts” or “themes” of philosophical discourse.  Pierre Hadot, in The Inner Citadel, concludes that these probably correlate with the traditional Stoic parts of philosophical discourse, based on his careful analysis of the texts of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius.  These are the three “lived” versions of the more theoretical discourses found in Stoic logic, ethics, and physics.

  1. The Discipline of Assent (sunkatathesis).  The ability to assent to true impressions, dissent from false ones, and suspend judgement toward uncertain ones.  This appears to be linked to the Stoic topic of logic, and perhaps also with the virtue of wisdom.
  2. The Discipline of Desire (orexis).  To have desire for and attain the good, to have aversion toward and avoid the bad, and to feel indifference toward indifferent things.  The good is to be defined as  being solely in the domain of things under one’s control, one’s volitions or actions, making wisdom and other virtues the highest good.  This is the discipline of the passions and, perhaps surprisingly, may be linked to the Stoic topic of physics, as this encompasses the study of human nature and the passions, which are themselves primarily forms of desire and aversion, and it may also correspond with the virtues of courage and temperance, which relate to self-control over irrational desire (craving) and aversion (fear).  The study of Nature, and theology, are linked to the virtue of piety, and acceptance of the Cosmic order, which appears to be central to the discipline of desire: we must understand Nature and bring our desires and aversions into conformity with it.
  3. The Discipline of Action (hormê).  To seek to act or not act, always in accord with one’s appropriate actions (kathêkonta) or duties, in terms primarily of natural and acquired social relationships.  This appears to perhaps be linked to the Stoic topic of ethics, and perhaps also with the virtue of justice.
Categories
Stoicism

Were Hand Gestures a Technique of Stoicism?

The early Stoics reputedly said that “knowledge is the leading part of the soul in a certain state, just as the hand in a certain state is a fist” (Sextus in Inwood & Gerson, 2008, The Stoic Reader, p. 27).  This analogy between secure knowledge, having a firm grasp on an idea, and the physical act of clenching the fist seems to be a recurring theme in Stoic literature.

And Zeno used to make this point by using a gesture.  When he held out his hand with open fingers, he would say, “This is what a presentation is like.”  Then when he had closed his fingers a bit, he said, “Assent is like this.”  And when he had compressed it completely and made a fist, he said that this was grasping (and on the basis o f this comparison he even gave it the name ‘katalepsis’ [grasp], which had not previously existed).  But when he put his left hand over it and compressed it tightly and powerfully, he said that knowledge was this sort of thing and that no one except the wise man possessed it.  (Cicero in Inwood & Gerson, 2008, p. 47)

The sculpture of Chrysippus in the picture here, from the 3rd century BC, shows him holding his hand out with open fingers, in a similar posture.  So we have a series of four hand gestures:

  1. The hand is held open, at a distance, with palm upwards, to symbolise a superficial impression or “presentation”, prior to assent being given.
  2. The hand is closed loosely, to symbolise initial “assent” or agreement with the idea.
  3. The hand is squeezed tightly into a fist to symbolise a firm grasp (katalepsis) or sense of certainty, assent has been given to it as an “Objective Representation” or phantasia kataleptike.
  4. The fist is enclosed tightly in the other hand, to symbolise the perfect “knowledge” of true ideas attained by the ideal Sage, which is elsewhere described as an interconnection of firmly-grasped principles and ideas, forming the excellent character of the wise.

Marcus Aurelius explicitly refers to the Stoic clenching his fist as a metaphor for arming himself with his philosophical precepts or dogmata:

In our use of [Stoic] precepts [dogmata] we should imitate the boxer [pancratiast] not the swordsman [gladiator].  For the swordsman’s weapon is picked up and put down again.  However, the boxer always has his hands available.  All he has to do is clench his fist. (Meditations, 12.9)

For the Stoics it was important to memorise the precepts and integrate them completely with one’s character in order to have them always “ready-to-hand” in the face of adversity.  It’s possible that the physical act of literally clenching the fist, like a boxer, was used as a mnemonic to recall principles required in difficult situations.

It could be that the Stoics used the gesture of the open hand to symbolize withholding assent from impressions, which is one of the most important techniques of Stoic psychology.  Epictetus told his students that when they spot a troubling impression they should apostrophize (speak to) it as follows: “You are just an impression and not at all the thing you claim to represent.”  (More literally: You are just an appearance and not entirely the thing appearing.)  This is what modern psychotherapists call Cognitive Distancing and it would make sense to recall it by using an open-handed gesture as a trigger or aide memoire.

It’s possible perhaps to construct a modern Stoic psychological exercise out of this symbolic set of hand gestures.  First, while repeating a precept of Stoicism (“the only good is moral good”, “pain is not an evil”) the Stoic student might initially hold his hand open as if toying with the idea and then progressively close it more tightly, while imagining accepting it more deeply, until he finally clenches his fist tightly to symbolise having a firm grasp of the idea, and closes his other hand around it, to symbolise integrating it more deeply with his character, and contemplating how the Sage might hold this belief.  This might be compared to the use of “autosuggestions” or rehearsing “rational coping statements” in modern psychological therapies.

There may also be an additional use, in relation to false or irrational ideas as mentioned above.  A modern Stoic might make the open-handed gesture shown in Chrysippus’ statue when he notices an unhelpful or irrational thought occurring spontaneously, and entertain it a while longer, as if holding it loosely in an open hand, at a distance, while repeating “This is just an automatic thought, and not at all the thing it claims to represent” or “This is just a thought, not a fact”, etc.  He might also begin with his hand loosely closed, if he’s already given his assent to an impression, and slowly relax his fingers, metaphorically “letting go” of attachment (assent) to the troubling impression.

We don’t know whether the set of symbolic hand gestures described by Zeno was meant originally as a psychological technique of this kind.  However, the quote from Marcus Aurelius above could perhaps be read, if taken very literally, as a description of an actual physical practice employed by Stoic students: clenching their fists to arm themselves, like a boxer, with their philosophical precepts (dogmata) in the face of adversity.