Can you be a modern Stoic and an atheist (or agnostic)?

Your emperor […] never sought to lose himself in sciences useless to man. He soon saw that the study of nature is an abyss, and applied philosophy wholly to morals. (Eulogium on Marcus Aurelius)

Although most (but perhaps not all, as we’ll see below) Stoics appear to have placed considerable importance upon belief in God (specifically, Zeus), there is some indication that they may also have accepted a kind of uncertainty about the existence of God, as consistent with their school’s teachings, something relatively unusual for the period in which they lived.  Only about 1% of the ancient Stoic writings survive today, at a rough estimate.  We have substantial texts from only three authors: Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius.  They were all late Roman Stoics and we have only fragments from the early Greek Stoics, including the founders of the school.  (Also some important ancient secondary sources, especially in the writings of the Platonist Cicero.)  None of these Stoics appear to have been agnostics themselves but others may have been.  What matters is whether they, and other Stoics, would have accepted that someone else could potentially be both an agnostic (or atheist) and a Stoic.

Although, the Stoics were known as Dogmatists by their critics, they were not doctrinaire or dogmatic in the modern sense.  Indeed, Seneca makes it plain that they refused to treat their founders as gurus and encouraged each other to critically evaluate all aspects of the school’s teachings, and arrive at their own philosophical conclusions.  That’s basically why Stoicism was a philosophy and not a religion.

What then? Shall I not follow in the footsteps of my predecessors? I shall indeed use the old road, but if I find one that makes a shorter cut and is smoother to travel, I shall open the new road. Men who have made these discoveries before us are not our masters, but our guides. Truth lies open for all; it has not yet been monopolized. And there is plenty of it left even for posterity to discover.  Letter 33

Throughout history, Stoics, and indeed pantheists in general, have been accused of atheism.  Spinoza, who has been called “more Stoic than the Stoics”, and his followers, were attacked as atheists because he said “Deus sive natura“, God is the same thing as Nature. On the other hand, many people would say this was an unfair criticism.  However, the Stoic conception of God, or Zeus, which they also equate with Nature, is so unlike most theistic conceptions of God that it inevitably raises questions about whether it makes sense to call it “God” at all.  Stoic physics and theology were heavily influenced by the writings of the pre-Socratic Heraclitus, the master of paradox, who wrote that Nature “is both willing and unwilling to be called by the name of Zeus”.  In other words, if you asked Heraclitus whether Nature is the same as Zeus he would probably have replied: “yes and no“!  The Stoics were materialists (or corporealists) for whom God could not exist as a metaphysical or supernatural entity apart from physical Nature.  They were therefore renowned for interpreting Greek myths about the gods allegorically, as metaphors for natural forces and processes.  We have a surviving text on theology from the Stoic Cornutus, which elaborates at great length on the symbolic interpretation of the gods, drawing heavily on speculations about ancient etymologies.  It concludes:

In the same way, my child, you can apply these basic models to everything else that comes down through mythology concerning those considered to be gods, in the conviction that the ancients were far from mediocre, but were capable of understanding the nature of the cosmos and ready to express their philosophy in symbols and enigmas.

Cornutus still believes piety is important and customary rituals are preserved.  However, the traditional myths are to be understood metaphorically as references to aspects of divine Nature.

When the young are being taught to sacrifice and pray, and worship and swear oaths in the right way and in the appropriate circumstances (according to the sense of proportion you adopt for yourself) – you will come to grasp both your ancestral traditions about these things (the gods and their cults and everything that exists for their honour), and also an unblemished account of them, so that they will lead you only to piety, and not to superstition.

Likewise, Henry Sedgwick, in his biography of Marcus Aurelius, summarizes the original teachings of Zeno of Citium, the founder of Stoicism as follows:

Zeus, Hera and Vesta,
And all the gods and goddesses
Are not Gods, but names
Given to things that lack life and speech;
For Zeus is the sky, Hera the air,
Poseidon the sea, and Hephaestus fire.

Seneca also makes it clear that he sees the ancient myths as akin to children’s stories and that no educated adult should take them literally.

I am not so foolish as to go through at this juncture the arguments which Epicurus harps upon, and say that the terrors of the world below are idle – that Ixion does not whirl round on his wheel, that Sisyphus does not shoulder his stone uphill, that a man’s entrails cannot be restored and devoured every day; no one is so childish as to fear Cerberus, or the shadows, or the spectral garb of those who are held together by naught but their unfleshed bones. (Letters, 24)

This is the source of much confusion: the Stoics do very frequently talk about Zeus but they clearly did not mean their use of conventional theological and mythological language to be taken at face value.  Zeus, and the other traditional gods, are re-interpreted in naturalistic terms, as the personification of Nature as a whole, or certain aspects thereof.  This conveniently allowed the early Greek Stoics to escape the charge of atheism, which we should recall was the pretext for Socrates’ execution.  However, it also allowed them to radically revise the conventional theological beliefs held by non-philosophers, the “foolish” majority of people.  This should come as no surprise because the Stoic school was particularly known for introducing paradoxical doctrines, intended to turn popular beliefs on their head.

For example, in an article entitled The Stoic Worldview, Dr. John Sellars, one of the leading contemporary scholars of Stoicism, writes:

It is difficult to know how serious this talk of ‘God’ was. The early Stoic Cleanthes appears very sincere in his ‘Hymn to Zeus’, for instance, and we have no reasons to doubt his sincerity. However the Stoics were also well known for offering allegorical interpretations of the pagan Gods, including allegorical interpretations of the portraits of the Gods in Homer for instance. Famously, the Stoic Chrysippus once said that Zeus and his wife Hera are actually the active and passive principles in Nature, breath and matter. (In one source, Diog. Laert. 7.147, divine names for Nature are explained on the basis of their etymology.) Much later, in the third century AD, the philosopher Plotinus said that the Stoics bring in God into their philosophy only for the sake of appearances (Enn. 6.1.27). If ‘God’ is simply another name for Nature then it doesn’t really do much work in their philosophy; it doesn’t add or explain anything, so one might easily drop the word without any obvious loss.

Stoicism was a philosophy and not a religion, in the sense that its students were encouraged to be reflective and to critically evaluate the dogmas of the school rather than accept them as articles of faith. The scholars of the Middle Stoa, Panaetius and Posidonius, reputedly modified the doctrines of the early Greek Stoa significantly, assimilating elements of Platonism and Aristotelianism, whereas Zeno himself had been scathingly critical of Plato and Aristotle. Even earlier, we’re told that Chrysippus, the third head of the school, “differed on most points from Zeno, and from Cleanthes as well, to whom he often used to say that all he wanted was to be told what the doctrines were; he would find out the proofs for himself” (Diogenes Laertius).

This included disagreement among Stoics over aspects of Logic and Ethics, but also about Physics and the nature of the gods. For example, according to Diogenes Laertius, Cleanthes taught that the Sun was the ruling power of the world, where the mind of God is centred, whereas Posidonius made it the heaven, and Chrysippus either the heaven or the purest part of the ether that pervades all things. Panaetius said that the world is indestructible, whereas the other Stoics believed it was periodically destroyed in a cosmic conflagration. Zeno, Chrysippus and Posidonius said the substance of God is the whole world and heaven combined, whereas Antipater said it was something akin to air, and Boëthus of Sidon denied that the world was a divine being and said instead that God was the sphere of the fixed stars. Zeno and Chrysippus argued for the reality of divination, as proof for the existence of God, whereas Panaetius denied that divination was real. Cleanthes said that all souls survive after death until the cosmic conflagration, whereas Chrysippus said that only the souls of the wise do. Many more disagreements are reported in the other ancient sources. In short, the Stoic school clearly tolerated divergent views on various fundamental questions of Physics and theology.

Diogenes Laertius stated this striking divergence among the ancient Stoics, over their most fundamental theological dogmas, very clearly.  For example:

The doctrine that the world is a living being, rational, animate and intelligent, is laid down by Chrysippus in the first book of his treatise On Providence, by Apollodorus in his Physics, and by Posidonius. […] Boëthus, however, denies that the world is a living thing. (Diogenes Laertius, Zeno)

In a recent article, entitled What is a Stoic?, John Sellars likewise noting the striking tolerance of these theological disagreements in the ancient Stoic school, concludes:

Who counted as a Stoic in antiquity? There are problems with trying to follow the ‘core set of doctrines’ approach. Even in its original incarnation in Athens, Stoicism was not a fixed set of doctrines adopted by unthinking disciples. The Hellenistic Stoics were philosophers and, like all philosophers, were prone to argue among themselves. The Roman Stoic Seneca famously said “we Stoics are not subjects of a despot; each of us lays claim to his own freedom” (Ep. 33.4).

He adds that “as Seneca’s comment highlights, the Hellenistic Stoics did not agree upon everything and we have numerous reports of later Stoics disagreeing with the supposedly orthodox Stoic view on one topic or another.”

Moreover, this apparently included disagreement as to whether premises derived from Physics were actually required to support Stoic Ethics.  It is true that according to Diogenes Laertius, with regard to their threefold curriculum of Ethics, Physics, and Logic, “No single part, some Stoics declare, is independent of any other part, but all blend together.”  The fact that some, presumably most, Stoics held that these topics overlapped doesn’t necessarily mean that they thought they depended upon one another, though.  However, more significantly, Diogenes here says that only some Stoics, not all, taught that these topics were interrelated.  That necessarily means that at least some Stoic teachers must also have presented Physics and Ethics differently, as basically independent areas of study.  That passage therefore appears to directly contradict the claim sometimes made today that all ancient Stoics adhered to an orthodox position that held their central doctrines in Physics and theology are necessary to justify their core Ethical doctrines.  Diogenes Laertius clearly states that at least some Stoic teachers treated Ethics and Physics as completely separate topics.

Protagoras, the first famous Sophist, was known for his agnosticism.  According to Diogenes Laertius, for instance, his book On the Gods began with the words:

As to the gods, I have no means of knowing either that they exist or that they do not exist. For many are the obstacles that impede knowledge, both the obscurity of the question and the shortness of human life.

The Stoic attitude toward religion, as allegorical, appears to be derived from one of Protagoras’ students, the Sophist Prodicus, a friend of Socrates, who was frequently labelled an “atheist” or “agnostic” in the ancient world.  The famous allegory of Prodicus, called “The Choice of Hercules”, as recounted in Xenophon’s Memorabilia of Socrates, was apparently the text that inspired Zeno of Citium to become a philosopher, and a follower of the Cynic Crates.  It ultimately led to the founding of the Stoic school.  Prodicus was called an “atheist” on account of his naturalistic reinterpretation of the gods as symbolic personifications of the sun, moon, rivers, etc.

Prodicus of Ceos says that ‘the ancients accounted as gods the sun and moon and rivers and springs and in general all things that are of benefit for our life, because of the benefit derived from them, even as the Egyptians deify the Nile.’ And he says that it was for this reason that bread was worshipped as Demeter, and wine as Dionysus, and water as Poseidon, and fire as Hephaestus, and so on with each of the things that are good for use. (Sextus Empiricus, Against the Mathematicians)

Persaeus, the most prominent of Zeno’s immediate students, reputedly adopted this agnostic or atheistic way of interpreting the gods from the teachings of Prodicus.

Persaeus appears in reality to be prepared to dispense with a divinity, or at least take up an agnostic position; seeing as, in his treatise On the Gods, he says that Prodicus was not unpersuasive in writing that things that provided nourishment or other help to us were the first things to be acknowledged and honoured as gods, and later that persons who first found new means of obtaining food or providing shelter, or invented other arts and crafts were called names like Demeter, Dionysus and the like. (Philodemus, On Piety)

Cicero also attributes Prodicus’ view of the gods to Persaeus:

Persaeus says that it was men who had discovered some great aid to civilisation that were regarded as gods, and that the names of divinities were also bestowed upon actual material objects of use and profit, so that he is not even content to describe these as the creations of God, but makes out that they are themselves divine. (On the Nature of the Gods, 1.15)

This method of interpretation later became particularly associated with the philosopher Euhemerus, a contemporary of Zeno, and was subsequently known as Euhemerism or the “historical theory of mythology”.  It typically argues that:

1. Some myths about gods are symbolic representations of natural phenomena, e.g., the Egyptians worship the River Nile as a god, the discovery of wine led to its personification in the god Dionysus, and so on
2. Others result from the deification of kings and other great men, e.g., that Zeus was in reality ancient Cretan king whose life gradually became mythologized

This naturalistic and somewhat skeptical method of interpreting the myths doesn’t necessarily lead to atheism.  However, it was widely regarded as a form of atheism or agnosticism in the ancient world.  In his recent book, Battling the Gods: Atheism in the Ancient World, Tim Whitmarsh therefore classes the Stoic Persaeus as an atheist, like Prodicus before him.  However, Persaeus wasn’t the only Stoic to use arguments based on the historical theory of mythology.  We can see it very clearly in the Roman Stoic teacher Cornutus’ Compendium of Greek Theology, but there are also traces of similar arguments in the writings of Seneca and other Stoics.

This debate about whether the ancient Stoics would require their followers to believe in God or not, and what they mean by “God”, naturally interests modern Stoics, many of whom are agnostics or atheists themselves and seek to reconcile Stoic ethics and psychological practices with their own contemporary worldview.  It’s worth noting that Socrates was sometimes interpreted as a partial agnostic.  (Speaking here of Socrates as he appears in the early Platonic dialogues and elsewhere and not the more dogmatic mystical and metaphysical views put in his mouth by Plato in his middle and later dialogues.)

Socrates admitted that certainty about the gods is impossible but chose to believe in them on the basis of probability.  In Plato’s Apology (40c) he professes belief in the Greek gods.  However, he also argues that either death is followed by oblivion or our souls survive in an afterlife and are judged in Hades where they associate with the souls of others who have died before us.  At least in this monologue, he appears to consider oblivion after death as a plausible alternative to conventional Greek religious views about the afterlife.  Indeed, he makes the fact his agnosticism about the afterlife, what follows death being unknown, a premise in the following moral argument during his defence speech:

For the fear of death is indeed the pretence of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being a pretence of knowing the unknown; and no one knows whether death, which men in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is not this ignorance of a disgraceful sort, the ignorance which is the conceit that a man knows what he does not know? And in this respect only I believe myself to differ from men in general, and may perhaps claim to be wiser than they are: that whereas I know but little of the world below, I do not suppose that I know: but I do know that injustice and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil and dishonourable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good [death] rather than a certain evil [injustice]. (Apology)

It’s often been said that Socrates’ questioning method necessarily left him open to the possibility of atheism or at least to radical doubt about the nature of the gods and afterlife.  Indeed, T.H. Huxley, who coined the term “agnostic” actually claimed “it is as old as Socrates”, i.e., that Socrates was the first agnostic.  Yet the Stoics generally held him in high regard as perhaps the closest historical approximation to the ideal Sage.  In Xenophon’s Memorabilia, it’s asserted that Socrates was not an atheist but also that he thought metaphysical speculation about the nature of the universe as a whole was a waste of time.

He did not even discuss that topic so favoured by other talkers, “the Nature of the Universe”: and avoided speculation on the so-called “Cosmos” of the Professors, how it works, and on the laws that govern the phenomena of the heavens: indeed he would argue that to trouble one’s mind with such problems is sheer folly. In the first place, he would inquire, did these thinkers suppose that their knowledge of human affairs was so complete that they must seek these new fields for the exercise of their brains; or that it was their duty to neglect human affairs and consider only things divine?  Moreover, he marvelled at their blindness in not seeing that man cannot solve these riddles; since even the most conceited talkers on these problems did not agree in their theories, but behaved to one another like madmen. As some madmen have no fear of danger and others are afraid where there is nothing to be afraid of, as some will do or say anything in a crowd with no sense of shame, while others shrink even from going abroad among men, some respect neither temple nor altar nor any other sacred thing, others worship stocks and stones and beasts, so is it, he held, with those who worry with “Universal Nature.” Some hold that “What is” is one, others that it is infinite in number: some that all things are in perpetual motion, others that nothing can ever be moved at any time: some that all life is birth and decay, others that nothing can ever be born or ever die. Nor were those the only questions he asked about such theorists. Students of human nature, he said, think that they will apply their knowledge in due course for the good of themselves and any others they choose. Do those who pry into heavenly phenomena imagine that, once they have discovered the laws by which these are produced, they will create at their will winds, waters, seasons and such things to their need? Or have they no such expectation, and are they satisfied with knowing the causes of these various phenomena? Such, then, was his criticism of those who meddle with these matters. His own conversation was ever of human things (Memorabilia, 1)

Moreover, in explaining his view that Stoicism followed Cynicism as part of a direct philosophical succession beginning with Socrates, Diogenes Laertius emphasizes the claim that Socrates was the first philosopher to eschew discussion of natural philosophy in favour of ethical questions directly related to problems of living.  (Natural philosophy or “Physics” included theology, as Diogenes acknowledges in discussing Socrates.)  He says that Socrates “discussed moral questions in the workshops and the market-place, being convinced that the study of nature is no concern of ours.”  Elsewhere he notes that despite this Socrates did say some things about “providence”, although the extensive discussions of cosmology and theology attributed to him in the Platonic Dialogues are not his own words but those of Plato, who reputedly being began using “Socrates” as a mouthpiece for doctrines that were actually Pythagorean in origin.

In my opinion Socrates discoursed on Physics [including theology] as well as on ethics, since he holds some conversations about Providence, even according to Xenophon, who, however, declares that he only discussed ethics. But Plato, after mentioning Anaxagoras and certain other Physicists in the Apology, treats for his own part themes which Socrates disowned, although he puts everything into the mouth of Socrates.

It was the early Platonic Dialogues, such as the Apology, and the writings of Xenophon, which reputedly provide a more authentic portrayal of Socrates, which the Stoics modelled themselves upon.  This Socrates was the one who expressed agnosticism or uncertainty over ultimate questions about the nature of the universe and the existence of the gods.

Moreover, several ancient Stoics appear to have questioned the importance of belief in God, at least to some extent.  Panaetius, the last “scholarch” or head of the Athenian school of Stoicism, who introduced it to Rome, is reported to have stated that discussion of the gods is “nugatory” or of negligible importance in relation to the Stoic way of life (q.v., Algra, ‘Stoic Theology’, in The Cambridge Companion to The Stoics, 2003, p. 154).  Although like earlier Stoic teachers he probably did believe in Providence himself, it seems he felt that it was insignificant whether or not his Stoic students did so as well.

Moreover, Aristo of Chios, an influential associate of Zeno, who perhaps leaned more toward Cynicism and rejected certain fundamental aspects of early Stoicism, held more sceptical views later reported by Cicero as follows: “Aristo holds that no form of God is conceivable, and denies him sensation, and is in a state of complete uncertainty as to whether he is, or is not, animate” (On the Nature of the Gods, 1.14).  His views appear to have been controversial within Stoicism, although they nevertheless had a lasting influence.  For example, some scholars interpret his letters to Fronto as suggesting that Marcus Aurelius was “converted” to Stoic philosophy after reading Aristo of Chios.  There’s some disagreement as to whether Aristo left the Stoa or remained a Stoic, albeit one who departed from the orthodox views of Zeno.  For example, John Sellars writes “Aristo is forever labelled a ‘heterodox Stoic’ but the fact remains he did remain a Stoic, and didn’t run off to become a Cynic.”

Moreover, philosophers from both the Cynic and Megarian schools, important precursors of Stoicism, reputedly held controversial views about the existence of the gods.  There are many passages in which Diogenes the Cynic ridicules religious practices such as praying to the gods for good health, while living in unhealthy ways. He thought the idea of salvation through initiation was ridiculous because it allowed bad people to be rewarded while the good suffered, just because they’d paid a priest. He reputedly burned a wooden statue of the god Heracles to cook his lentils. So it seems clear he thought the religious attitudes and practices of the majority were foolish and hypocritical. He attacks diviners and soothsayers as charlatans, preying on the superstitions of the gullible.

So did he propose an alternative form of religion? No. What does he say, then, about the existence of the gods? He famously said that the long-life and successful career of the notorious pirate Harpalos was proof against the existence of the gods. When asked directly if the gods exist, on one occasion, we’re told he said “I don’t know”, adding that all he knew was that it would be helpful if they did. We’re told someone once asked him “Are you the Diogenes who doesn’t believe in the existence of the gods?”, showing at least that this was his reputation during his lifetime. He replied, “How could I be when I consider you hateful to them?”, which was perhaps merely a joke. A variety of anecdotes are therefore told about Diogenes in which he claims the existence of the gods is proven, disproven, or unknown to him. In general though, he is portrayed as having a pretty cynical (small c) attitude toward religion and the mystery cults.  Nevertheless, the Stoics, particularly Epictetus, held Diogenes up as a near-sage and one of their most revered role-models.

We’re told Stilpo the Megarian was asked if the gods exist by Crates the Cynic. Both men were important teachers of Zeno, the founder of Stoicism. Stilpo replied, “Don’t ask me about such matters in the street, you fool”, implying that the answer would provoke the crowds. When Diogenes Laertius cites this he goes on to say that likewise the Cynic Bion of Borysthenes, a contemporary of Zeno and fellow-student of Crates, when asked if the gods exist, replied “Will you not scatter the crowd from me, wretched old man!” We know from other sources that Bion criticised the gods fiercely and impiously, inspired by the teachings of the famous Cyrenaic philosopher “Theodoros the Atheist”.

Zeno of Citium, the founder of Stoicism, who happened to be a contemporary of Theodoros the Atheist, appears to have forwarded several arguments for the existence of god.  However, he also reputedly proposed that temples and religious sculptures should be abolished.  The Stoics in general fundamentally revised established assumptions concerning the nature of prayer and divination and to have rejected the common anthropomorphic view of the Greek and Roman gods. Hence, even insofar as certain Stoics endorsed a belief in god, they also radically modified traditional religious concepts and practices.

Moreover, even in the sparse literature that survives, the Stoics frequently express negative or sceptical views about traditional Graeco-Roman religion.  For example, the Stoic poet Lucan, nephew of Seneca, in his epic The Civil War (or Pharsalia) wrote:

No guardian gods watch over us from heaven:
Jove [i.e., Zeus] is no king; let ages whirl along
In blind confusion: from his throne supreme
Shall he behold such carnage and restrain
His thunderbolts? […]
Careless of men
Are all the gods.

It’s not clear if this was actually Lucan’s personal view, as a Stoic, but it’s nevertheless clearly a profound questioning of established theological assumptions, sounding more Epicurean perhaps than traditionally Stoic.  Curiously, Seneca, who may have exerted considerable influence over Lucan’s Stoicism, argues that the traditional Stoic role-model Heracles (the son of Zeus) might be obsolete and better replaced by the more-recent example provided by Cato the Younger in the Roman civil war.  Together, therefore, Seneca and Lucan appear to be suggesting, or at least flirting with the notion, that Stoics should model themselves on real historical exemplars, political and military figures like the Republican hero Cato, rather than mythological gods and demigods, like Zeus and Heracles.

Moreover, the fundamental question over the existence of God (or the gods) may have been given a kind of name or label in ancient philosophy.  About nine times in The Meditations, according to C.R. Haines, Marcus Aurelius alludes to contrasting viewpoints traditionally taken as characteristic of two opposing traditions in ancient Graeco-Roman philosophy: “God or atoms”.  Belief that God (or “Providence”) ordered the cosmos was taken to be characteristic of the broad tradition originating with Pythagoras and Socrates, and including Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics.  By contrast, belief that the universe was due to the random collision of atoms, originating with Democritus, was characteristic of the Epicurean school, the main rival of Stoicism.  Professor Michael Sugrue discusses this aspect of The Meditations in this section of his popular lecture on Marcus Aurelius.

In his rigorous analysis of The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, the French scholar Pierre Hadot argues that the text clearly shows that Marcus views this as an allusion to a well-established line of argument, presumably one taught in Stoic schools of the period.  Although Marcus rejected the “atoms” (Epicurean) hypothesis, nevertheless, Hadot concludes that he seems to be arguing that even if someone were to accept this and reject Providence, the core of Stoicism, the Stoic ethical doctrines, would still remain true and compelling.

Marcus thus opposes two models of the universe: that of Stoicism and that of Epicureanism.  His reason for doing so is to show that, on any hypothesis, and even if one were to accept, in the field of [philosophical] physics, the model most diametrically opposed to that of Stoicism, the Stoic moral attitude is still the only possible one. (Hadot, The Inner Citadel, 1998, p. 148)

There’s a very vocal group of people today who very strongly believe that all ancient Stoics strictly adhered to the doctrine that to be a Stoic one must agree with a specific set of “orthodox” theological doctrines from Stoic Physics and that Stoic Ethics necessarily requires belief in these, mainly the belief that Nature is a provident and divine being.  When I published the first draft of this article one of them objected very sternly that I’d completely misrepresented Pierre Hadot on this point.  So I went back and re-read the section from Hadot’s  book very carefully.  In fact, it seemed to me to confirm my interpretation.  The main objection seemed to be that Hadot affirmed that Marcus himself did believe in Providence.

Whatever modern historians may claim, the dilemma “either providence or chance,” when used by Seneca or by Marcus Aurelius, does not signify either the renunciation of Stoic physical theories or an eclectic attitude which refuses to decide between Epicureanism and Stoicism. In fact, we can see that Marcus has already made his choice between Epicureanism and Stoicism, by the very way in which he describes the Epicurean model with a variety of pejorative terms… (The Inner Citadel, p. 149)

Now, that’s not in dispute.  So it’s irrelevant.  Marcus certainly rejected Epicurean Physics, “atoms”, and believed strongly in Providence.  What’s in question is whether he would also have asserted that all other Stoics must share that belief or that they must believe in Stoic Physics to be virtuous or believe in Stoic Ethics.  It seems to me that Marcus repeatedly makes it clear that he does not believe this and that Hadot confirms this interpretation of his text.

Our choice of a model of the universe thus changes nothing with regard to the fundamental Stoic disposition of consent to events, which is nothing other than the discipline of desire. (The Inner Citadel, p. 149)

So “nothing changes” with regard to the Stoic Discipline of Desire, says Hadot, for Stoics who reject belief in Providence in favour of a universe governed by random atoms, because the model of Physics we choose doesn’t matter in this regard.

I hadn’t noticed until I re-read Hadot but he arrived at the same conclusion as me regarding the origin of the “God or atoms” argument: that it was has the appearance of a well-established Stoic doctrine derived from an earlier source.

Such arguments are obviously not Marcus’ inventions. When he first speaks about them, he makes only a brief allusion to them, as if he were speaking of a well-known school-doctrine (“Remember the disjunction…”) without bother to set forth the entire chain of reasoning. (The Inner Citadel, p. 149)

Hadot continues by explaining that for Marcus, based on what appears to be a well-established Stoic doctrine alluded to also by Seneca and Epictetus, “it is impossible not to be a Stoic”, if one reasons accurately about Ethics, regardless of the Physics or theological beliefs one chooses.

When, in other passages, Marcus seems to imply that the Stoic moral attitude would be the same, whichever model of the universe one uses, and whichever physics one accepts, he is trying to demonstrate that, on all possible hypotheses, it is impossible not to be a Stoic. (The Inner Citadel, p. 150)

Hadot then adds that for Marcus, because of the Stoic “God or atoms” argument, right-minded individuals, who have thought rationally about Ethics, should have to “live like Stoics”, even if they agreed with Epicurean atomism, and rejected the notion that Nature is divine and provident.

Even if Epicurean physics were true, we would still have to renounce the Epicurean idea that pleasure is the only value. We would still have to live like Stoics. (pp. 150-151)

And, yet again, Hadot affirms this interpretation of the nine passages in Marcus alluding to the “God or atoms” distinction,

Either providence – in which case we must live like Stoics – or else atoms – in which case we still have to live like Stoics. (p. 151)

Turning to another modern commentator, this time the biographer of Marcus Aurelius, Frank McLynn, we find him arriving at same conclusion as Hadot regarding Marcus’ use of the “God or atoms” argument:

Yet in the end, Marcus admitted that the atoms-versus-Providence conundrum was insoluble by empirical evidence and argued that it actually made no difference to ethical theory which view of the universe was entertained; we can still use reason to impose order on chaos. (pp. 219-220)

The psychologist Kevin Vost’s recent book on Stoicism and Christianity, The Porch and the Cross, arrives at the same interpretation of Marcus’ “God or atoms” comments:

We see Marcus pondering the nature of the universe; whether there is a God or gods, and, if so, whether they intervene in the world; or whether everything is really a matter of atoms, bouncing around by chance with no deeper meaning.  He admits that such things are even hard for the Stoics to know for sure, but he has his opinion (in favor of God and purpose) and he advises living a life guided by philosophy regardless of the ultimate answer. (Vost, 2016, 158)

It’s well-established by scholars that the ancient Stoics, probably influenced by the example of Chrysippus’ extensive writings, frequently took it upon themselves to formulate arguments to persuade non-Stoics, or philosophers of opposing schools, of Stoic views, on their own terms, i.e., in their own language and based upon assumptions familiar to them.  The notion that Stoic ethics, the central doctrine of Stoicism, could be justified even on the basis of an atomistic and atheistic or agnostic world-view, was probably essential to arguments designed to win over followers from other schools, or non-philosophers, who did not have the same kind of belief in God as the founders of Stoicism and their more orthodox followers.

For example, some of Marcus’ comments about this “God or atoms” argument are as follows:

Recall once again this alternative: ‘if not a wise Providence [God], then a mere jumble of atoms’… (4.3)

Alexander of Macedon and his stable-boy were brought to the same state by death; for either they were received among the same creative principle of the universe [God], or they were alike dispersed into atoms. (6.24)

So Marcus argues that the Stoic’s attitude toward death should be the same whether he believes in God or not.  He repeats something like this in another passage:

Thou hast embarked, thou hast made the voyage, thou art come to shore; get out. If indeed to another life, there is no want of gods, not even there. But if to a state without sensation, thou wilt cease to be held by pains and pleasures, and to be a slave to the vessel, which is as much inferior as that which serves it is superior: for the one is intelligence and deity; the other is earth and corruption. (3.3)

It’s been observed that Seneca says something that resembles this:

What is death? Either a transition or an end. I am not afraid of coming to an end, this being the same as never having begun, nor of transition, for I shall never be in confinement quite so cramped anywhere else as I am here. (Letters, 24)

In another passage, Seneca appears to be alluding to the same distinction as Marcus, between God and atoms (or “chance”):

Perhaps someone will say: “How can philosophy help me, if Fate exists? Of what avail is philosophy, if God rules the universe? Of what avail is it, if Chance governs everything? For not only is it impossible to change things that are determined, but it is also impossible to plan beforehand against what is undetermined; either God has forestalled my plans, and decided what I am to do, or else Fortune gives no free play to my plans.” Whether the truth, Lucilius, lies in one or in all of these views, we must be philosophers; whether Fate binds us down by an inexorable law, or whether God as arbiter of the universe has arranged everything, or whether Chance drives and tosses human affairs without method, philosophy ought to be our defence. She will encourage us to obey God cheerfully, but Fortune defiantly; she will teach us to follow God and endure Chance. But it is not my purpose now to be led into a discussion as to what is within our own control, – if foreknowledge is supreme, or if a chain of fated events drags us along in its clutches, or if the sudden and the unexpected play the tyrant over us; I return now to my warning and my exhortation, that you should not allow the impulse of your spirit to weaken and grow cold. Hold fast to it and establish it firmly, in order that what is now impulse may become a habit of the mind. (Seneca, Epistles, 16)

In other words, Stoic philosophy is just as relevant, he appears to be claiming, whether or not we believe that events are causally determined by unthinking Fate, by the Providential Will of God, or by blind chance.

Marcus returns to the theme several times, though, and refers repeatedly to the notion that it is indifferent which one of these opposing metaphysical views (“God or atoms”) we accept, because Stoic Ethics leads us to the same conclusions either way.

If the choice is yours, why do the thing?  If another’s, where are you to lay the blame for it?  On gods?  On atoms?  Either would be insanity.  All thoughts of blame are out of place. (8.17)

That is, whether a Stoic believes in God or not (in mere random atoms), either way he should not think in terms of “blame”.

It may be that the World-Mind [God] wills each separate happening in succession; and, if so, then accept the consequences.  Or, it may be, there was but one primal act of will, of which all else is the sequel; every event being thus the germ of another.  To put it another way, things are either isolated units [atoms], or they form one inseparable whole.  If that whole be God, then all is well; but if aimless chance, at least you need not be aimless also. (9.28)

So the Stoic reminds himself that even if the whole universe is composed of aimless chance, or random atoms, rather than being steered by God, in any case, he should himself not act aimlessly.  In other words, we should make it our constant goal to pursue the good, to pursue wisdom and the other virtues, whether or not we believe in Providence.

Either things must have their origin in one single intelligent source [God], and all fall into place to compose, as it were, one single body – in which case no part ought to complain of what happens for the good of the whole – or else the world is nothing but atoms and their confused minglings and dispersions.  So why be so harassed? (9.39)

Whether one’s fate is the product of an intelligent God or the mere random collision of atoms, in either case, the Stoic should not feel personally harassed.  (Because our only true good is virtue, which is under our own control, and external matters are morally indifferent.)

No matter whether the universe is a confusion of atoms or a natural growth, let my first conviction be that I am part of a Whole which is under Nature’s governance; and my second, that a bond of kinship exists between myself and all other similar parts. (10.6)

So the Stoic principle of kinship to all mankind, and to Nature as a whole, holds good, whether or not we believe in a provident God.  In the very next passage, Marcus turns to the question of whether we should be shocked by change and loss in the universe.

But supposing that we even put [divine] Nature as an agent out of the question and explain that these things are “naturally” so, even then it would be absurd to assert that the parts of the whole are naturally subject to change, and at the same time to be astonished at a thing or take it amiss as thought it befell contrary to nature, and that thought things dissolve into the very constituents out of which they are composed.  For either there is a scattering of the elements out of which I have been built up, or a transmutation of the solid into the earthy and of the spiritual into the aerial… (10.7)

This wasn’t actually one of the nine passages identified by Haines.  However, in this tenth instance, Marcus considers two hypotheses: first, that the universe is ordered by a provident and divine Nature, second, that Nature is not an agent, not divine Providence, but merely a blind material process, as we tend to think of it today.  In either case, Marcus draws the same ethical conclusion: that we should accept change and loss as indifferent natural events.

Likewise:

There must be either a predestined Necessity and inviolable plan, or a gracious Provident God, or a chaos without design or director.  If then there be an inevitable Necessity, why kick against the pricks?  If a Providence that is ready to be gracious, render thyself worthy of divine succour.  But if a chaos without guide, congratulate thyself that amid such a surging sea thou hast in thyself a guiding rational faculty [hêgemonikon].  (12.14)

And:

[Thou must have this rule ready for use:] to realize that all that befalls thee from without is due either to Chance or to Providence, nor hast thou any call to blame Chance or to impeach Providence. (12.24)

Note that in this passage, Marcus appears to say that he must always have a rule ready-to-hand in his mind that says that events may be due either to Providence or, alternatively, to mere Chance.  That would appear to mean always accepting the possibility that Providence is not responsible for events, which arguably amounts to a kind of agnosticism.

Marcus’ biographer, Anthony Birley, notes that although in some passages Marcus seems to express religious sentiments, and he conscientiously carried out the formal rites of the Roman religion, “at times in his writings he seems more like an agnostic”. Another of Marcus’ modern biographers, Sedgwick, concludes that Marcus’ willingness to embrace agnostic doubts explains his enduring appeal to many modern readers:

Like us, he was hedged about with doubts. Like us, he confronted the alternative of a universe which, moved by reason, proceeds toward a rational goal, or of an irrational universe, propelled by its own blind properties upon a purposeless course.

In summary, Marcus appears to be trying to persuade himself:

• That whether we are dissolved into God or dispersed among random atoms, either way all of us, whether kings or servants, face the fate in death.
• That whether the universe is rule by a provident God or due to the random collision of atoms, either way it makes no sense to blame others for our actions.
• Whether the universe is governed by God or due to the “aimless chance” movement of atoms, either way “you need not be aimless also.”
• Whether the universe is governed by a single intelligent Providence or it is nothing but random atoms, in either case on should not be “harassed”.
• Finally, whether the universe is a “confusion of atoms” or the natural growth (of a provident God?), either way I should be convinced that I am part of something bigger, and a kinship therefore exists between me and other parts.

Scholars disagree over Marcus’ intention in presenting himself with this dichotomous choice between “God and atoms”, however.  One common interpretation is that he is reminding himself that whether a creator God exists, or whether the universe is simply ordered by blind chance, in either case the practical (ethical) principles of Stoicism should still be followed.  For the Stoics, who were essentially pantheists, theology was part of the discipline of “physics”, because they were materialists, who viewed God as pervading, and ordering, the whole of nature.

Moreover, I believe that a remark made by Epictetus, whose philosophy Marcus studied closely may be read as shedding further light on the contrast between “God or atoms”.  In one of the fragments in Stobaeus attributed to Epictetus (fr. 1) we are told he said the following:

What does it matter to me, says Epictetus, whether the universe is composed of atoms or uncompounded substances, or of fire and earth?  Is it not sufficient to know the true nature of good and evil, and the proper bounds of our desires and aversions, and also of our impulses to act and not to act; and by making use of these as rules to order the affairs of our life, to bid those things that are beyond us farewell?  It may very well be that these latter things are not to be comprehended by the human mind, and even if one assumes that they are perfectly comprehensible, well what profit comes from comprehending them?  And ought we not to say that those men trouble in vain who assign all this as necessary to the philosopher’s system of thought? […] What Nature is, and how she administers the universe, and whether she really exists or not, these are questions about which there is no need to go on to bother ourselves.

Stobaeus titles this: “From Arrian the pupil of Epictetus. To the man who was bothering himself about the problem of being.”

If this fragment came from one of the two lost books of the Discourses, this may be the source of Marcus Aurelius’ comments about “God and atoms”.  What is clear is that in this passage, Epictetus says that questions concerning Nature (Phusis),  which the Stoics use as a synonym for God, are unnecessary and potentially distracting elements of philosophy.  He even says that whether Nature (God?) really exists or not, is a question about which there is no need for Stoics to bother themselves.  He also says that specific questions such as whether the universe is made of atoms or of elements such as “fire and earth”, are fundamentally indifferent with regard to Stoic ethics.  The Stoics believed that the universe is composed of a divine fire-like substance with causal powers (aka “pneuma”), identified both with God and the “spark” or fragment of divinity within humans, and the inert earth or matter upon which it acts.

Epictetus goes on to say that the elements of nature are “perhaps are incomprehensible to the human mind, but even if one should suppose them to be wholly comprehensible, still, what good does it do to comprehend them?”  As the Stoic thought God to be material, this might be read as a kind of agnosticism, which questions whether knowledge of God is comprehensible or necessary to the practical aims of Stoic philosophy.

This isn’t an isolated attitude.  Marcus says several times that the truth about Physics, the nature of the universe, is uncertain.  He even appears, in a passage not unlike the one above, to say that the Stoics admit that Physics is speculative, and our judgements regarding it are fallible.

As for the things of the world, their true nature is in a manner so involved with obscurity, that unto many philosophers, and those no mean ones, they seemed altogether incomprehensible, and the Stoics themselves, though they judge them not altogether incomprehensible, yet scarce and not without much difficulty, comprehensible, so that all assent of ours is fallible, for who is he that is infallible in his conclusions? (Meditations, 5.10)

In the final passage of Book I of The Meditations, Marcus likewise thanks the gods that when he became interested in philosophy he didn’t fall into the hands of sophists nor become distracted by writing about syllogistic logic or celestial phenomena because these are all things for which “we need the help of fortune and the gods”, i.e., subjects where our knowledge is inconclusive.

One possible explanation for these and similar quotes would be if the Stoic school itself had somehow arrived at the position that Physics is valuable but uncertain, whereas the central doctrines of Ethics can be known with certainty.  This is speculation: in defending Zeno’s teachings against the arguments of Academic Skepticism, Chrysippus may have been forced to concede that he could not demonstrate the doctrines of Stoic Physics with absolute certainty.  He would therefore have been forced to maintain that Stoic Physics provides extremely valuable but not essential support for Stoic Ethics.

Overall, I would say that the literature of ancient Stoicism suggests that Marcus Aurelius and perhaps also Epictetus believed that agnosticism or even atheism may have been consistent with the Stoic way of life.  What I haven’t attempted to do here is to argue at length for the philosophical consistency of an agnostic (or atheistic) form of Stoicism.  However, in this regard, I would begin by pointing to the argument that the central principle of Stoicism, that the only true good is wisdom (the cardinal human virtue or excellence), acceptance of which arguably does not require belief in God, and from which other Stoic principles may derive without the need for belief in God as an additional premise.