In this excerpt from Attic Nights, the grammarian Aulus Gellius, a contemporary of Marcus Aurelius, relates an amusing anecdote. Herodes Atticus was a wealthy Sophist, known for his eloquence but also his violent temper. He was family friend of Marcus Aurelius, but also a critic of Stoicism.
The apt use made by Herodes Atticus, the ex-consul, in reply to an arrogant and boastful young fellow, a student of philosophy in appearance only, of the passage in which Epictetus the Stoic humorously set apart the true Stoic from the mob of prating triflers who called themselves Stoics.
While we were students at Athens, Herodes Atticus, a man of consular rank and of true Grecian eloquence, often invited me to his country houses near that city, in company with the honourable Servilianus and several others of our countrymen who had withdrawn from Rome to Greece in quest of culture. And there at that time, while we were with him at the villa called Cephisia, both in the heat of summer and under the burning autumnal sun, we protected ourselves against the trying temperature by the shade of its spacious groves, its long, soft promenades, the cool location of the house, its elegant baths with their abundance of sparkling water, and the charm of the villa as a whole, which was everywhere melodious with plashing waters and tuneful birds.
There was with us there at the time a young student of philosophy, of the Stoic school according to his own account, but intolerably loquacious and presuming. In the course of the conversations which are commonly carried on at table after dinner, this fellow often used to prattle unseasonably, absurdly, and at immoderate length, on the principles of philosophy, maintaining that compared with himself all the Greek-speaking authorities, all wearers of the toga, and the Latin race in general were ignorant boors. As he spoke, he rattled off unfamiliar terms, the catchwords of syllogisms and dialectic tricks, declaring that no one but he could unravel the “master,” the “resting,” and the “heap” arguments, and other riddles of the kind. Furthermore, as to ethics, the nature of the human intellect, and the origin of the virtues with their duties and limits, or on the other hand the ills caused by disease and sin, and the wasting and destruction of the soul, he stoutly maintained that absolutely no one else had investigated, understood and mastered all these more thoroughly than himself. Further, he believed that torture, bodily pain and deadly peril could neither injure nor detract from the happy state and condition of life which, in his opinion, he had attained, and that no sorrow could even cloud the serenity of the Stoic’s face and expression.
Once when he was puffing out these empty boasts, and already all, weary of his prating, were thoroughly disgusted and longing for an end, Herodes, speaking in Greek as was his general custom, said: “Allow me, mightiest of philosophers, since we, whom you call laymen, cannot answer you, to read from a book of Epictetus, greatest of Stoics, what he thought and said about such big talk as that of yours.” And he bade them bring the first volume of the Discourses of Epictetus, arranged by Arrian, in which that venerable old man with just severity rebukes those young men who, though calling themselves Stoics, showed neither virtue nor honest industry, but merely babbled of trifling propositions and of the fruits of their study of such elements as are taught to children.
Then, when the book was brought, there was read the passage which I have appended, in which Epictetus with equal severity and humour set apart and separated from the true and genuine Stoic, who was beyond question without restraint or constraint, unembarrassed, free, prosperous and happy, that other mob of triflers who styled themselves Stoics, and casting the black soot of their verbiage before the eves of their hearers, laid false claim to the name of the holiest of sects:
‘Speak to me of good and evil.’ — Listen: The wind, bearing me from Ilium, drove me to the Cicones. Of all existing things some are good, some evil, and some indifferent. Now the good things are virtues and what partakes of them, the evil are vice and what partakes of vice, and the indifferent lie between these: wealth, health, life, death, pleasure, pain.— ‘How do you know this?’ — Hellanicus says so in his Egyptian History. For what difference does it make whether you say that, or that it was Diogenes in his Ethics or Chrysippus or Cleanthes? Have you then investigated any of these matters and formed an opinion of your own? Let me see how you are accustomed to act in a storm at sea. Do you recall this classification when the sail cracks and you cry aloud? If some idle fellow should stand beside you and say: ‘Tell me, for Heaven’s sake, what you told me before. It isn’t a vice to suffer shipwreck, is it? It doesn’t partake of vice, does it?’ Would you not hurl a stick of wood at him and cry: ‘What have we to do with you, fellow? We perish and you come and crack jokes.’ But if Caesar should summon you to answer an accusation…”
On hearing these words, that most arrogant of youths was mute, just as if the whole diatribe had been pronounced, not by Epictetus against others, but against himself by Herodes.
What might a code of conduct based on Stoicism look like?
What might a code of conduct based on Stoicism look like?
Something about the chivalric codes of the Middle Ages seems curiously akin to the ethical ideals of Stoicism. Ancient Stoic philosophy didn’t have an explicit code of honor, as far as we know. However, according to the doxographer Stobaeus, the Stoics maintained that the goal of their philosophy, “living in agreement with nature”, was synonymous with “living honorably”. Moreover, a basic code of honorable conduct is clearly implicit in the surviving writings of Seneca, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, and our other sources for the philosophy.
Stoics liked to have lists that could be easily committed to memory. Most obviously, there is their list of four cardinal virtues, which goes back at least as far as the portrayal of Socrates in the dialogues of Plato: Wisdom (sophia), Righteousness (dikaiosune), Fortitude (andreia), and Temperance (sophrosune); or Wisdom, Justice, Courage, and Moderation, in more modern language. These virtues came to be represented by four corresponding animals in the traditional symbol known as the tetramorph: the man of wisdom, eagle of justice, lion of fortitude, and ox or bull of temperance.
The doxographer Diogenes Laertius said that the Stoics described the supreme good as “honorable” because it consists of these four factors required for the perfection of human nature: the virtues of wisdom, justice, courage, and, as he writes, orderliness (self-discipline or moderation). The “honorable”, he says, denotes those qualities which make their possessor genuinely praiseworthy, by allowing him to fulfil his natural potential as a human being. The Stoics concluded therefore that the wise man alone is honorable and “that only the honorable is good”. The good and the honorable are synonymous, in other words. However, the good is also that which is beneficial. The Stoics believed that doing what is honorable is in our own best interests because it allows us to flourish as human beings.
We might briefly summarize the Stoic code of honor described below as follows:
Love the truth and seek wisdom
Act with justice, fairness, and kindness toward others
Master your fears and be courageous
Master your desires and live with self-discipline
In addition to this fourfold scheme, some of the Stoics also refer to a threefold rule of life, which Epictetus describes as the distinction between the Discipline of Assent, the Discipline of Action, and the Discipline of Desire and Aversion. It’s easy to combine these threefold and fourfold models, though, as shown below. The Stoics regarded courage and moderation as two aspects of the discipline required to live consistently in accord with wisdom and justice, by mastering our fears and desires. We can see that in the famous slogan attributed to Epictetus: endure and renounce. Endure our fears, through courage, and renounce our desires, by exercising moderation — the Discipline of Desire and Aversion.
Zeno, the founder of Stoicism, defined the supreme goal as a “smoothly flowing life”, or “living in agreement with Nature”. For the Stoics this came to mean living consistently and in harmony with our own nature, as rational beings, with the rest of mankind, and with Nature as a whole, particularly the external events that befall us in life. For example, Marcus Aurelius uses this threefold model to express the basic Stoic code of conduct throughout The Meditations.
Every nature is contented when things go well for it; and things go well for a rational nature when it [1:] never gives its assent to a false or doubtful impression, and [2:] directs its impulses only to actions that further the common good, and [3a:] limits its desires and aversions only to things that are within its power, and [3b:] welcomes all that is assigned to it by universal nature. (Meditations, 8.7)
Likewise,
It is sufficient that [1:] your present judgement should grasp its object, that [2:] your present action should be directed to the common good, that [3:] your present disposition should be well satisfied with all that happens to it from a cause outside itself. (Meditations, 9.6)
Marcus attributes these ideas to Epictetus:
No one can rob us of our free will, said Epictetus. He said too that [1:] we ‘must find an art of assent, and [2:] in the sphere of our impulses, take good care that they are exercised subject to the “reserve clause”, and that they take account of the common interest, and that they are proportionate to the worth of their object; and [3a:] we should abstain wholly from immoderate desire, and [3b:] not try to avoid anything that is not subject to our control’. (Meditations, 11.36–37)
1. The Discipline of Assent — Stoic Mindfulness
The Virtue of Wisdom: Love the Truth
The very word philosophy literally means “love of wisdom”, which entails the love of truth. Socrates taught that genuine wisdom consists in grasping the truth about the most important things in life. For Stoics, wisdom therefore consists in our ability to grasp the nature of the supreme good, i.e., the goal of life. Put differently, it’s the knowledge of what is good, bad, and indifferent. You can therefore also describe wisdom as the ability to know what helps us flourish and achieve fulfillment (eudaimonia) in life, or what harms us in that regard. The Stoics use the word prosoche (attention) to describe the practice of continual mindfulness regarding our ruling faculty and its use of judgements in daily life, especially the way our value judgements shape our desires and emotions. Wisdom requires “Stoic mindfulness”, in other words.
However, the virtue of wisdom, and therefore Stoic honor, is also associated with the ability to be scrupulously honest both with oneself and others. Wisdom can’t exist alongside self-deception and justice can’t exist as long as we’re deceiving others. Wisdom is the ability to grasp the truth about the most important things in life, to perceive its implications for daily life, and to communicate as clearly as possible on that basis. Epictetus calls this the Discipline of Assent. We should avoid giving our assent to impressions that are false. Rather we must firmly grasp hold of certain basic truths such as those concerning the nature of the supreme good in life, i.e., that it consists of wisdom and virtue.
In the 19th century, Gautier summarized the Ten Commandments of medieval European chivalry. We can compare his code of honor with the four Stoic virtues and three disciplines. However, chivalry was wedded to Christianity so instead of loving philosophical truth and wisdom, Gautier’s equivalent would be the more doctrinaire: “Thou shalt believe all that the Church teaches and thou shalt observe all its directions.” Yet Christian knights are expected to embrace truth and honesty just like the Stoic code: “Thou shalt never lie, and shalt remain faithful to thy pledged word.” A Stoic code of honor would therefore require being ruthlessly honest with yourself and not deceiving others — Stoics also avoid jumping to conclusions rashly in areas where the truth is uncertain. The virtue of wisdom is traditionally symbolized in the tetramorph by the image of a man.
2. The Discipline of Action — Stoic Philanthropy
Justice: Seek to Help Others, Fate Permitting
Wisdom applied to our actions leads to the virtue of justice, although in Stoicism this is a broad concept which could better be described in more general terms as social virtue. Marcus Aurelius constantly reminds himself that his actions should be dedicated to the fundamental goal of life, the attainment of wisdom and virtue. However, the virtue of justice must also aim at an external outcome and for Stoics that is the common welfare of mankind. Everything a Stoic does should contribute, in some small way, to benefiting humanity, or at least not do the opposite. We might describe this as “Stoic philanthropy” or brotherly love.
However, as other people are externals, beyond our direct control, Stoics have to pursue their welfare with the caveat “Fate permitting” — known as the Stoic “reserve clause” (hupexairesis). Cicero explained this through the famous metaphor of the archer. He can take aim at a target and fire his arrow skilfully but once it has flown from the bow, whether or not it hits the target is in the hands of fate. He takes aim to the best of his ability but accepts that the target could move, for instance, and accepts either success or failure with emotional equanimity.
Marcus says that the Discipline of Action is threefold. It requires acting for the common welfare of mankind, with the caveat “Fate permitting”, but also using reason to judge the relative value (axia) of different outcomes in order to determine the most appropriate course of action. The Stoic virtue of justice consists of two main qualities: kindness and fairness.
Kindness is simply the opposite of anger, according to the Stoics. Anger typically consists in the desire to harm others because of some perceived injury, the desire for vengeance. Kindness, by contrast, is the desire to help others. We help others, even our “enemies”, by educating them and bringing them closer to wisdom. However, the Stoics recognize that it’s natural to “prefer” certain external advantages in life, such as health, wealth, and reputation, so long as they’re only desired within reasonable bounds and not excessively. That means, though, that we must exercise judgment to rationally determine in each case the difference between having enough sleep, for instance, and having too much.
Gautier’s chivalric code requires medieval knights to defend their nation and the Christian community: “Thou shalt defend the Church”, “Thou shalt love the country in which thou wast born.” However, it also requires knights to pledge their lives to protecting the poor and the weak: “Thou shalt respect all weaknesses, and shalt constitute thyself the defender of them”, “Thou shalt be generous, and give largesse to everyone”, “Thou shalt be everywhere and always the champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.” Stoics likewise dedicate their lives to acting wisely and with the social virtues of justice, fairness, and kindness, acting for the common welfare of mankind, Fate willing, i.e., while accepting that the outcome is not directly under their control. The virtue of justice is symbolized in the tetramorph by the image of an eagle.
3. The Discipline of Desire and Aversion — Stoic Acceptance
Seek not for events to happen as you wish but wish events to happen as they do and your life will go smoothly. — Handbook
The last two virtues are closely-related and can be viewed as the twin virtues of self-mastery. Epictetus combines them in his slogan “endure and renounce” (or “bear and forbear”). Epictetus believed that novice Stoics should begin their training by focusing on these virtues. We can call this “Stoic acceptance” because it requires a kind of resignation to external events, beyond our direct control, that the majority of people struggle against, seeking to change or avoid. The Stoics famously used the metaphor of a dog tied to a cart to illustrate this. The fool is like a dog who tries to sit down or run in the opposite direction but is dragged along roughly by its leash anyway. The wise man is like the dog who keeps pace with the cart, for whom things go smoothly because he accepts and adapts to his fate.
a. Courage: Endurance in the Service of Wisdom and Justice
With courage and endurance we face our fears and patiently bear unpleasant feelings, such as hunger and fatigue, and even pain. The Stoics constantly remind themselves of the paradox that our fear does us more harm than the things of which we’re afraid. However, the majority of people tend to confuse recklessness with courage. Courage without wisdom, as Socrates pointed out, though, is not a virtue — it’s just reckless or foolhardy. Even criminals act fearlessly, or endure pain and discomfort, but they do so in the pursuit of base and vicious goals.
Gautier’s chivalric code requires knights to show courage: “Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy.” Stoics likewise view pain with relative indifference and are willing to face things feared by the majority of people, in the service of wisdom and justice. The virtue of courage is symbolized in the tetramorph by the image of a lion.
b. Moderation: Sacrifice in the Service of Wisdom and Justice
Through the virtue of moderation or temperance, we limit our desires to what reason determines to be appropriate under the circumstances, renouncing excess and forbearing from over-indulgence. As the famous maxim of the Delphic Oracle said: “nothing in excess” — all things in moderation. However, the majority of people, again, tend to confuse the appearance of self-discipline with the real thing. Vain and greedy individuals often exercise self-discipline in one area of their lives in order to indulge themselves in others.
Gautier’s version of the chivalric code requires Christian knights to fulfil their duties in a conscientious and disciplined manner: “Thou shalt perform scrupulously thy feudal duties, if they be not contrary to the laws of God.” Stoics view pleasure with relative indifference and are therefore willing to forego things desired by the majority of people, living in a self-disciplined manner in the service of wisdom and justice. The virtue of temperance is symbolized in the tetramorph by the image of an ox or bull.
Every so often I receive emails from people who have struggled to cope with their own alcoholism or that of their loved ones. They tell me how they’ve found great support and consolation in the writings of ancient Stoic philosophers, such as The Meditations of Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius. Those who are familiar both with the Stoics and the Twelve Step Program often recognize connections between them. The Serenity Prayer, for instance, made famous by Alcoholics Anonymous, neatly encapsulates one of the most characteristic doctrines of Stoic philosophy.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.
The Stoic philosopher Epictetus taught his students the same thing:
What, then, is to be done? To make the best of what is in our power, and take the rest as it naturally happens. — Discourses, 1.1
There are countless other references in the Stoic literature to making a firm distinction between what’s under our control and everything else: what we do versus what merely happens to us. We should take greater responsibility for what’s up to us, according to Stoicism, and get less upset about what is not. Wisdom consists largely in bearing this simple — almost commonsense — distinction in mind and being clearer about its practical and emotional implications for us in daily life.
Modern Stoics tend to call this idea the “dichotomy of control” or “Stoic fork”. However Stoicism offers much more than just this wise maxim — it’s a complete philosophy of life. One person who contacted me about alcoholism and Stoicism therefore described it as “the Serenity Prayer on steroids”.
Stoic Therapy
The most influential psychological principle of Stoicism comes from another one of Epictetus’ sayings:
It’s not things that upset us but our judgments about things. — Encheiridion, 5
That became the inspiration for modern cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), the leading evidence-based approach to psychotherapy today. Both Stoicism and CBT are based on the idea that our emotions are largely — if not exclusively — determined by our underlying beliefs. From that shared premise they draw similar conclusions about how best to change feelings by changing our voluntary thoughts (cognitions) and actions (behaviour).
For the Stoics, the beliefs that upset us ultimately take the form of strong value judgments about things outside our direct control being either extremely bad or extremely good, leading to excessive fear or desire respectively. The Stoics argued that it was irrational — a veritable recipe for neurosis — to have a strong desire to get or avoid external things insofar as they are beyond our direct control. It’s healthier to focus on our own voluntary actions instead and take more responsibility for the way we respond to the situations that befall us.
We need to learn to do our own work, in a sense, by focusing more attention on what we can do rather than worrying about the things fate throws at us. When we can’t change something we need to learn to accept that fact with Stoic indifference. As Shakespeare put it:
Things without all remedy should be without regard. — Macbeth
The Eleventh Step uses more religious language to express this attitude of emotional acceptance in dealing with alcoholism:
[We sought] through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
We should, in other words, learn to accept reality — the Will of God, if you prefer theological language — and adapt accordingly to the demands of our situation.
The Eleventh Step also contains the following retrospective meditation technique.
When we retire at night, we constructively review our day. Were we resentful, selfish, dishonest or afraid? Do we owe an apology? Have we kept something to ourselves which should be discussed with another person at once? Were we kind and loving toward all? What could we have done better? Were we thinking of ourselves most of the time? Or were we thinking of what we could do for others, of what we could pack into the stream of life? But we must be careful not to drift into worry, remorse or morbid reflection, for that would diminish our usefulness to others.
“After making our review”, the authors say, “we ask God’s forgiveness and inquire what corrective measures should be taken.” This obviously resembles an influential technique described in The Golden Verses of Pythagoras, which was adopted by the Stoics. We find it in the writings of Epictetus, Seneca, and also in a book by Galen, Marcus Aurelius’ court physician, about Stoic therapy practices. Before retiring to sleep each night, it advises us to review the events of the day three times asking ourselves three questions: What we did well? What we did badly? What we omitted to do?
The Big Book continues by describing a complementary prospective meditation technique:
On awakening let us think about the twenty-four hours ahead. We consider our plans for the day. Before we begin, we ask God to direct our thinking, especially asking that it be divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self-seeking motives. Under these conditions we can employ our mental faculties with assurance, for after all God gave us brains to use. Our thought-life will be placed on a much higher plane when our thinking is cleared of wrong motives.
This also resembles morning meditation practices found in The Golden Verses of Pythagoras, and the writings of the Stoics.
The Stoics on Alcohol
So how did the Stoics view alcohol? The historian Diogenes Laertius, a “doxographer” who recorded the views of Greek philosophers, says that the Stoics typically drank wine in moderation, but would not allow themselves to get drunk. Stobaeus, another doxographer, tells us that the Stoics classified excessive love of wine as a disease, although curiously they considered hating it too much to be one as well. Although the Stoics typically appear to have favoured moderation, they may perhaps have agreed with the Twelve Step Program’s abstinence approach for individuals who struggle to limit their drinking.
Stoics had to be careful they were abstaining for the right reasons, though. Epictetus seems to assume that his students have sometimes become “water drinkers”, presumably abstaining from wine, for the purposes of training in Stoicism (Discourses, 3.14). He criticizes them for telling everyone they meet “I drink water”, as if the goal is to show off. He says that if what they’re doing is good for them they should be satisfied with that and shut up instead of going on about it to the annoyance of others.
The Stoic wise man (or woman) views alcohol itself with studied indifference and focuses instead on the use he makes of it. Everything can be used either well or badly, according to the Stoics. So the wise man pays attention to the present moment and whether he is acting wisely or foolishly, with self-discipline or recklessness, in a healthy manner or an unhealthy one, and so on. To help ourselves make progress in this direction, we should actually set aside time to study how people we admire cope with temptation, trying to learn from their attitude and emulate their behaviour.
Marcus Aurelius’ most important role model was his adoptive father the emperor Antoninus Pius. Marcus writes in his notes that what was traditionally said of Socrates could be said of Antoninus: he was able to abstain from or enjoy those things that the majority of us are either too weak to abstain from or enjoy over-indulgently (Meditations, 1.16). Marcus says that Antoninus showed strength, endurance, and restraint whether he chose to abstain from something or partake in it, and that this is “the mark of someone who possesses a well-balanced and invincible character”.
The Emperor Lucius Verus
In my recent book, How to Think Like a Roman Emperor, I used stories from the life of Marcus Aurelius to illustrate ways Stoicism can be applied in practice to help us deal with psychological problems today. However, we can also learn from other people’s mistakes. Marcus’ temperance stood in contrast to the notorious self-indulgence of his adoptive brother and co-emperor, Lucius Verus. From the way Roman historians describe him it appears likely that he was an alcoholic. We’re told that when he was meant to be commanding the legions in the Parthian war instead he would spend his time throwing parties, gambling, and drinking. He was obsessed with the chariot races and had a huge crystal goblet made, named Volucer after his favourite horse, which we’re told “surpassed the capacity of any human draught”.
Lucius would get drunk and “wander about at night through taverns and brothels with only a common travelling-cap for a head-covering, revel with various rowdies, and engage in brawls, while concealing his identity”, according to the Historia Augusta. Sometimes he would stagger drunk into the cook-shops and throw heavy coins at the cups, smashing them, and “often, they say, when he returned, his face was beaten black and blue”. He liked to feast late into the night, until he passed out at his banqueting table, and had to be carried to bed by his servants. We’re told his health was “weakened by such follies of debauchery and extravagance”.
The same historian claims that shortly after being acclaimed emperor, Lucius’ character was revealed to be “weak and base” when he was supposed to be leading the Roman counter-offensive against a Parthian invasion. Indeed, “while a legate [a Roman general] was being slain, while legions were being slaughtered, while Syria meditated revolt, and the East was being devastated”, Lucius spent all of his time hunting in the countryside or partying with his entourage in the brothels and taverns of one pleasure resort after another.
We’re told Marcus was sorely tested by the vices of his brother, particularly his “excessive candour and hot-headed plain speaking”, described as the result of “natural folly”. Lucius was struggling to cope with his feelings, though. During the Parthian War, Lucius wrote to a family friend complaining in desperation of “the anxieties that have rendered me very miserable day and night, and almost made me think that everything was ruined.” He’s probably referring to problems negotiating with the hostile Parthians, but he was clearly overwhelmed by emotional distress. Binge drinking, casual sex, gambling, and partying became his way of coping, albeit badly, with the pressures of his role as Marcus’ junior co-emperor.
In The Meditations, Marcus arguably damns him with faint praise and says only that observing Lucius’ character compelled him to take better care of his own, although he was also reassured by his brother’s respect and affection (1.17). I think Marcus perhaps watched helpless as Lucius’ life disintegrated, and vowed that he would never let himself make the same mistakes. Instead, he spent decades improving his character through training in Stoicism. If Lucius had practised Stoicism like his brother could it have helped him?
Frank’s Recovery Story
Frank, a retired NYPD Officer, got in touch to tell me about the role Stoicism played in his own recovery:
In the rooms of AA with the Twelve Steps and my sponsor I built the archway that I walked through a free man, and which lead me to the Stoics. On my journey I was searching for anything that might help me spiritually because my childhood faith did not help nor did I want it. Then I found some old quotes and everything changed. They fell in line with what I was learning from going through the Twelve Steps. I read in The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius “Such as are your habitual thoughts, such also will be the character of your mind; for the soul is dyed by the thoughts.” I identified with these sayings and realized that they were along the same lines as the principles I was learning in AA. So I looked up Marcus Aurelius and discovered he was an emperor of Rome. The words “Stoic philosopher” appeared next to his name. So I began reading up on the Stoics.
Frank’s embrace of Stoicism reinforced and expanded what he’d learned from the Twelve Step Program. He was now more focused on taking responsibility for his own actions, more philosophical about setbacks, and more contented with life.
I’ve come to learn that I control very little! However, Stoic and Twelve Step principles such as looking for opportunities to experience gratitude in everything that happens to me good or bad — amor fati or “love of one’s fate” — have helped put me on the path of living happy joyous and free.
(Frank’s blog article Gratitude in my Attitude goes into more detail about his personal journey and Stoicism.)
Stoicism and Alcoholism
So what did the ancient Stoics have to say about alcohol and addiction? Well, the Stoics trained themselves to develop the virtue of temperance by practising various psychological techniques on a regular, often daily, basis. For example, they would often make an effort to describe things to themselves in very matter-of-fact language, like an ancient natural philosopher making observations about animal behaviour or a physician describing the symptoms of a disease. Stripping away emotive language and strong value judgments allowed them to retain a stronger grip on reality, which Stoics called having an “objective representation” (phantasia kataleptike).
When Marcus Aurelius gazed upon a bottle of the exquisite Falernian wine, therefore, he would remind himself that it was merely fermented grape juice, and that the fine meat dishes set before him were just the corpses of fish, birds, and pigs (Meditations, 6.13). We should strip away all the verbal embellishments that cloud our judgement of the things we desire and view the naked truth with total objectivity. Napoleon employed the same down-to-earth strategy by saying that a throne is merely a bench covered in velvet.
I think Stoicism appeals to many people who struggle with alcoholism because it offers more than just self-help advice. The language in which it’s expressed in the classics is often striking, beautiful, and memorable. These stories from ancient philosophy stick in people’s minds and their constant presence can help us to gradually find a new orientation in life whereas sound advice from modern self-help books is often more forgettable. Stoicism isn’t just a therapy, either, but a whole philosophy of life. People who embrace it find that it can give them the opportunity to recover a sense of purpose and direction in life, and in some cases that can help fill a void that they’d previously been using drugs or alcohol to conceal from themselves.
Most importantly, though, Stoicism is a philosophy that contains a call to action. The Stoics wanted us to apply reason to our lives, and engage in philosophical discussions about the meaning of life, but only insofar as it actually helps us to improve our characters. We also have to make decisions, arrive at conclusions, and put wisdom into practice. As Marcus Aurelius said:
Waste no more time arguing about what it means to be a good man and just be one. — Meditations, 10.16
A few years ago, when my daughter Poppy was four, she began asking me to tell her stories. I didn’t know any children’s stories, so I told her what came to mind: stories about Greek myths, heroes, and philosophers. One of her favorites is about the Athenian general Xenophon. Late one night, as a young man, he was walking through an alleyway between two buildings near the Athenian marketplace. Suddenly a mysterious stranger, hidden in the shadows, blocked his path with a wooden staff. A voice inquired from the darkness, “Do you know where someone should go if he wants to buy goods?” Xenophon replied that they were right beside the agora and the finest marketplace in the world. There you could buy any goods your heart desired: jewelry, food, clothing, etc. The stranger paused for a moment before asking another question: “Where, then, should one go in order to learn how to become a good person?” Xenophon was dumbstruck. He had no idea how to answer. The mysterious figure then lowered his staff, stepped out of the shadows, and introduced himself as Socrates. Socrates said that they should both try to discover how someone could become a good person, because that’s surely more important than knowing where to buy all sorts of other goods. So Xenophon went with him and became one of his closest friends and followers.
I told Poppy that most people believe there are lots of good things — nice food, clothes, houses, money, etc. — and lots of bad things in life, but Socrates said perhaps they’re all wrong. He wondered if there was perhaps only one good thing, and if it was inside of us rather than outside. Maybe it was something like wisdom or bravery. Poppy thought for a minute, then, to my surprise, she shook her head, saying, “That’s not true, Daddy!” which made me smile. Then she said something else: “Tell me that story again,” because she wanted to continue to think about it. She asked me how Socrates became so wise, and I told her the secret of his wisdom: he asked lots of questions about the most important things in life, and then he listened very carefully to the answers. So I kept telling stories, and she kept asking lots of questions. As I came to realize, these little anecdotes about Socrates did much more than just teach her things. They encouraged her to think for herself about what it means to live wisely.
One day, Poppy asked me to write down the stories I was telling her, so I did. I made them longer and more detailed, then I read them back to her. I started sharing some of them online, via my blog. Telling her these stories and discussing them together made me realize that this was, in many ways, a better approach to teaching philosophy as a way of life. It allowed us to consider the example set by famous philosophers and whether or not they provide good role models. I began to think that a book that taught Stoic principles through real stories about its ancient practitioners might prove helpful not just to my little girl but to other people as well.
Next, I asked myself who was the best candidate I could use as a Stoic role model, about whom I could tell stories that would bring the philosophy to life and put flesh on its bones. The obvious answer was Marcus Aurelius. We know very little about the lives of most ancient philosophers, but Marcus was a Roman emperor, so far more evidence survives about his life and character. One of the few surviving Stoic texts consists of his personal notes to himself about his contemplative practices, known today as The Meditations. Marcus begins The Meditations with a chapter written in a completely different style from the rest of the book: a catalogue of the virtues, the traits he most admired in his family and teachers. He lists about sixteen people in all. It seems he also believed that the best way to begin studying Stoic philosophy is to look at living examples of the virtues. I think it makes sense to view Marcus’s life as an example of Stoicism in the same way that he viewed the lives of his own Stoic teachers.
What might the Stoic philosopher say about Trump’s leadership qualities?
What might the Stoic philosopher say about Trump’s leadership qualities?
Ever on [Marcus Aurelius’] lips was a saying of Plato’s, that those states prospered where the philosophers were kings or the kings philosophers. — Historia Augusta
Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius’ (121–180 AD) was the most famous proponent of the Greek philosophy known as Stoicism. Having just written a book about Marcus, I’m often asked what the Stoic emperor would think of the current US president, Donald Trump. How would their political ideals and leadership qualities compare?
Stoicism has experienced a resurgence over recent decades, which extended into the political realm. Recently, Pat McGeehan, a Republican legislator in the West Virginia House of Delegates, wrote a book titled Stoicism and the Statehouse (2017). It was inspired, in part, by the example of James Stockdale, who drew on his knowledge of Stoic philosophy while enduring torture for over seven years in the notorious Hanoi Hilton, during the Vietnam War. Stockdale later ran as a vice presidential candidate in the 1992 election, on the same ticket as the independent Ross Perot. He once wrote that the sine qua non of a leader lies “in his having the character, the heart, to deal spontaneously, honorably, and candidly with people, perplexities, and principles.” Stoicism is a virtue ethic, which prizes moral wisdom and strength of character. Stockdale agreed with Will Durant’s statement that it therefore “produced the strongest characters of its time”, exceptional leaders, “men of courage, and saintliness, and goodwill,” including Marcus Aurelius.
When General James Mattis announced he was a fan of Stoicism recently, it raised the question of how Stoic virtue ethics might inform his conduct as Secretary of Defence under the leadership of President Trump. While in office, Mattis told an audience of military cadets that the one book every American should read is The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. “In combat”, he said, “the reason I kept a tattered copy in my rucksack to pull out at times was it allowed me to look at things with a little distance.” Mattis drew inspiration from Stoicism when frustrated with all “the political heave ho” in Washington and the apparent inexperience of certain individuals around him. He mused that the Empress Faustina, and Marcus’ son and co-emperor, Commodus, “were not people that you’d want to spend much time with”. Marcus Aurelius’ attitude toward these challenges clearly struck a chord with Mattis. What he admired most was the “humility and the dignity with which he conducted his life” as a ruler, even in the face of extreme circumstances. A few months later, General Mattis resigned from the Trump administration, citing a lack of alignment between his own views and those of the president.
At the beginning of The Meditations, Marcus Aurelius sets forth his Stoic political ideals. Marcus’ friend and tutor, the Aristotelian Claudius Severus, taught him what it meant to love truth, justice, and his fellow man. He also introduced him to the political values of famous Roman Stoic republicans, such as Cato the Younger and Thrasea Paetus who sacrificed their lives opposing despots — Julius Caesar and Emperor Nero respectively. From their example, Marcus learned to cherish:
[…] the idea of a republic in which there is the same law for all, a republic administered with regard to equal rights and equal freedom of speech, and the idea of a kingly government which respects most of all the freedom of the governed. — Meditations, 1.14
We can see that he lived and ruled by these principles. Marcus was acclaimed emperor with the full support of the Senate and yet he insisted that, for the first time in Roman history, power should be shared by two co-emperors. His adoptive brother and son-in-law, Lucius Verus, was therefore appointed to rule alongside him.
Marcus typically confirmed appointments and ratified important decisions through the Senate. The Historia Augusta states that he significantly extended the powers of Senators, making them “the judge in many inquiries and even in those which belonged to his own jurisdiction.” We’re told that Marcus showed more respect to the Senate than any other emperor. The Stoics believed that a mixed constitution was the best form of rule because it could combine the best elements of different political systems by allowing different branches of government to provide checks and balances for one another. Marcus genuinely viewed himself as a servant of the people therefore and actively sought to share power with his co-emperor and the Senate. In other words, despite being a Roman emperor, he was, at least in some key regards, arguably perceived as less autocratic than President Trump is today.
We’re told that he ruled in such an exceptionally tolerant manner that even though a popular satirist constantly ridiculed him, Marcus was not offended. He refused to do anything to punish such critics or restrict their freedom of speech. The same historian writes:
Toward the people he acted just as one acts in a free state. He was at all times exceedingly reasonable both in restraining men from evil and in urging them to good, generous in rewarding and quick to forgive, thus making bad men good, and good men very good, and he even bore with unruffled temper the insolence of not a few. — Historia Augusta
The Stoics believed that a true ruler, or leader, must be unswayed by flattery and unperturbed by insults. This notion perhaps goes back to Antisthenes whose saying Marcus Aurelius quoted with approval: “It is a king’s part to do good and be spoken of ill” (Meditations, 7.36). In his play Hercules Furens, the Stoic philosopher Seneca likewise wrote “’Tis the first art of kings, the power to suffer hate.” Arguably, though, President Trump has been rather less tolerant of criticisms in the free press and other media than the Emperor Marcus Aurelius would have been.
General Mattis also mentioned to those cadets that Marcus Aurelius spent much of his reign far from home, fighting the northern tribes along the Danube. The First Marcomannic War was interrupted by a civil war in 175 AD. An uprising instigated by Marcus’ most senior general in the east, Avidius Cassius, who had presumptuously acclaimed himself emperor in Egypt. Mattis admired the way Marcus Aurelius responded to this and other events, observing that “the commitment to his country, to his troops, really comes through” as you read the pages of The Meditations.
Marcus’ response to the usurper Avidius Cassius is one of the clearest examples in the history books of Stoic philosophy being put into action by a political leader. As soon as news reached Rome of the rebellion the Senate freaked out. Their knee-jerk reaction was to officially denounce Cassius as an “enemy of the people” (hostis publicus) and seize his assets. This, of course, escalated the crisis. The populace became afraid that Cassius would march on Rome, sacking the city to exact revenge. It would probably have taken over a week for a dispatch rider bearing the news to reach Marcus Aurelius’ army camp on the northern frontier. What the emperor did next was reported in detail by the Roman historian Cassius Dio, who even provides the reputed text of the speech he delivered before the gathered legionnaires — it’s frankly astounding.
Marcus declared that if Cassius had sought to impeach his authority peacefully he would have voluntarily stepped down from office and spoken before a Senate hearing where the claims against him could have been judged impartially, through due process. One of the most important ethical principles that the Stoics inherited from Socrates was the doctrine that no man does evil knowingly. Based on this premise, Marcus overcame his naturally quick temper, developing instead empathy and a reputation for showing clemency and forgiveness. He refused to blame Cassius or express anger toward him. Instead he insisted the most plausible explanation was that the rebels had acted in error, mistakenly believing rumours of his death from illness. Marcus therefore announced that he was officially pardoning everyone involved in the rebellion against him.
Cassius refused to stand down so, ironically, his own officers turned on him, beheading him in an ambush. They deemed that preferable to facing the might of the loyalist army advancing toward them under the rightful emperor’s command. Having been pardoned they had no more reason to fight. The civil war ended with minimal bloodshed about three months after it had begun. Cassius was a strict disciplinarian, notorious for his cruelty, who dismissed Marcus as a “philosophical old women” and a weak leader. However, though they feared Cassius, his officers weren’t willing to risk their skins for him, whereas Marcus’ troops loved him and remained steadfastly loyal.
Another Roman historian, Herodian, wrote of Marcus Aurelius:
The ruler who emplants in the hearts of his subjects not fear resulting from cruelty, but love occasioned by kindness, is most likely to complete his reign safely. For it is not those who submit from necessity but those who are persuaded to obedience who continue to serve and to suffer without suspicion and without pretense of flattery. And they never rebel unless they are driven to it by violence and arrogance.
President Trump has watched one after another of his former allies leak information, turn on him, and even testify against him in court. These are the fairweather friends the Stoics warn us against: friendships of expediency. The president has also been quick to get rid of appointees who questioned his judgement. Marcus Aurelius, by contrast, surrounded himself with a handful of carefully chosen “friends of the emperor”, hand-picked for their wisdom and strength of character. He encouraged them to speak plainly to him, and he retained them even when they challenged his decisions. I think perhaps Marcus, in his capacity as imperator, would have welcomed General Mattis’ views, whether or not they aligned with his own.
I think it’s fair to conclude that President Trump cuts a very different figure from Marcus Aurelius in terms of his leadership style. Presidential historian Jon Meacham, wrote of the surprising relevance Marcus Aurelius’ “optimistic Stoicism” has for the crises faced by contemporary US politicians. In doing so, Meacham noted some the most relevant qualities Marcus sought to embody as emperor were truthfulness, humility, and affection for his neighbours.
The Stoics, who were notorious for their paradoxes, would say that true leadership, or as they put it kingship, is a state of mind. Kingship can be possessed by anyone no matter how humble their station in life. Diogenes the Cynic was an exile who lived like a beggar but somehow more majestically than Alexander the Great, whom legend claims he looked upon as, at best, an equal. Whether or not any given king is kingly, or president presidential, we should all aspire to possess the virtues of leadership ourselves by living as wisely and responsibly as we can, treating others courteously, and so on.
“Only the virtuous man rules,” say the Stoics, “and even if he does not in all circumstances do so in actuality, still in all circumstances he does so by disposition.” In other words, leadership is a state of mind, a truly “kingly” or “presidential” character can be exhibited regardless of our station in life. Indeed, the virtues of leadership potentially exist within each and every one of us and that’s the first place we should start looking for them.
Towards that for the sake of which each being has been constituted and for which it was made, towards that it strives; now in what it strives towards, there resides its end; and where its end lies, there also lies its specific advantage and good. It follows that the good of a rational being must be fellowship with others; for it has long been proved that we were born for fellowship. — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 5.16
Although Socrates often criticized the Sophists he also admired much of what they said in praise of virtue. Protagoras was the first and greatest of them. This is my paraphrase of his most famous oration, known as the Great Discourse, based on the version described in Plato’s Protagoras…
At first there were gods but no mortal creatures. When the time came, the gods fashioned countless animals by mixing together the elements of fire and earth. Zeus then commanded the titan Prometheus to assign different abilities to each living thing.
Some creatures were slow moving and so to make up for this he gave them great strength. Others were weak and so to these Prometheus granted speed. Some he armed while others were given various forms of protection. Small creatures were granted the capability for winged flight or for concealing their dwellings underground. Large beasts had their size for protection. And he took care to grant all creatures some means for their own preservation so that no species should be in danger of elimination by others.
Having equipped them to survive among each other in this way Prometheus then granted them protection against their environment and the harshness of the seasons. He clothed some creatures with dense hair or thick skin, sufficient to endure the heat of summer and ward off the cold through winter months. To some he gave strong hooves, to others claws and hard bodies that did not easily shed blood. And every creature was assigned its own source of food. Some pastured on the earth, others ate fruits hanging from trees or roots from beneath the ground. Yet others were predators who fed upon other animals for their meat. To these he assigned limited offspring whereas their prey were more abundant so that there would always be enough to serve as food.
However, having assigned to each species its own special capabilities, Prometheus realized that he had nothing left to give the race of man. Humans are born naked, unshod, unarmed, and with no bed in which to lay their head and rest safely. Not knowing what else to do, he stole the technical expertise of the gods Hephaestus and Athena and gave it to mankind, along with the gift of fire.
Once human beings were granted these divine gifts, they sensed their kinship to the gods and began praying and building altars to them. They invented clothing, bedding, dwellings, agriculture, and even the use of language to express their thoughts and acquire learning. Men lived apart at first but finding themselves beset continually and harassed by wild beasts they sought to build cities for their own mutual protection.
However, the wisdom that concerns our relations with others belonged to Zeus alone, king of the gods and patron of friendship and families. No sooner than men gathered together trying to save themselves, being lawless, they began instead to wrong one another and fighting broke out among them. Scattering once again from their failed cities, they continued to perish in the wild.
Looking down upon this chaotic scene with dismay, Zeus feared for the destruction of the entire human race. He therefore sent Hermes, the messenger of the gods, to teach mortals about justice and to instil in them a sense of shame concerning wrongdoing, as a deterrent against injustice. By this means Zeus now granted mankind the capacity to unite themselves in cities, maintaining order through the bonds of friendship and fostering their sense of community.
Hermes asked Zeus whether he should distribute justice, and other social and political arts, among men in the same way as technical knowledge concerning the other crafts. One man who possesses the knowledge of medicine, he said, was enough to benefit many men, and so on. However, Zeus decreed that every human being must be granted some knowledge of justice and the arts needed to unite society. He even laid down the law that anyone who was found unable to respect justice and the rule of law should be put to death, being a plague on the city.
For this reason, said Protagoras, we seek the advice only of those few who are experts with regard to crafts such as medicine or carpentry but concerning justice we allow every citizen to have his say. Further, if someone boasts of being an expert in playing the flute or some such art but is found to be nothing of the sort then he is ridiculed as a fool. However, anyone who claims not to participate in justice risks being expelled from society because each and every citizen is expected to share at least somewhat in this capacity, which allows him to live harmoniously in the company of others.
Protagoras expressed the doctrine that humans are naturally social creatures in the guise of a myth. According to the philosophers, we are obliged to realize our potential for wisdom by exercising the gift of reason to the best of our ability. So also are we obliged to fulfil our natural potential for friendly collaboration with others by exhibiting the virtue of justice.
